Tracking Down the Goods sold on Main Street USA

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Laura Smith

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Kirin J. Makker is an Assistant Professor of Architectural Studies at Hobart William Smith Colleges in Geneva, New York, and the recipient of a 2014 Strochlitz Travel Grant. Travel Grants are awarded bi-annually to scholars and students to support their travel to and research in Archives and Special Collections. Part of the following essay also draws on materials at Winterthur Library, where this year Dr. Makker is also being supported by a National Endowment for the Humanities residential fellowship. To learn more about the book she is working on, please go here.

I went to Archives & Special Collections of the University of Connecticut Libraries to spend a couple of days sifting through the records of the E. Ingraham Company. I’m working on a book about the history of small town development when it boomed around 1900 and a major part of my research methodology involves following the trail of company goods right at the moment big capitalism really spread its wings (see blog The Myths of Main Street). My hope is to track where a handful of companies sold their goods in order to describe a product’s national distribution, and hence its availability across small town America. I have found, and my research will argue, that one of the reasons that small town America is such a consistent idea in the nation’s cultural language is that the goods exchanged there had both local and national parameters. Some of this research has had to do with companies that literally produced small town America: the storefronts, the brick-making machinery, the lamp posts. But other parts of the research is about the everyday objects that were sold in small towns, and how most of them during the period of small town America’s boom were not made locally or even regionally. The retailers were locals, but the items for sale on Main Street were typically sourced from manufactories or large distributors in cities.

For example, a $2 watch made by the E. Ingraham Company in 1898 was made in Bristol, Connecticut but was sold on several thousand Main Streets all across America in general stores or small jewelry shops. Ingraham was after the mass market that the very successful company Robert H. Ingersoll had been selling to. Ingersoll had shrewdly introduced a $1 pocket watch, the “Yankee,” in 1892, stumbling into an enormous mass market of working- and middle-class consumers interested in owning timepieces they could afford.

Although Ingraham couldn’t make a quality watch for that little (the Ingersoll watches, not surprisingly, were cheap but not known for quality), they did start making a $2 watch by 1900 and these sold quite well, judging by how long they produced this watch (until the 1950s). Yet, when I dug around the Ingraham Company archives in Archives & Special Collections, I had some trouble finding records to support their efforts to take a share of the Ingersoll Yankee’s market.

As I said, I set out to spend all my time on the Ingraham Clock Company archive. However, it turned out that what I was really hoping to find within my time period (1870-1930, Main Street’s ‘boom period,’ so to speak), wasn’t so easy to cull. I had set out to identify names and locations of retailers who ordered Ingraham watches for their shops on Main Streets in towns all over the country. Or possibly find advertising by the company that included testimonials from retailers in small towns. I have found these types of testimonials for Elgin watches of the period, so I was hopeful. However, most of the Ingraham Company’s order records in Archives & Special Collections show sales to large distributors in cities. In addition, most of the records in the collection were from the 1940s and 50s (just the luck of what records survived, unfortunately). I did find contract letters with Sears from the 1930s, in which the mega-retailer agreed to uniquely market Ingraham watches in their stores and catalogs. But I needed letters with Sears or Montgomery Ward from around 1905 or more information about the distributors who bought $2 watches in large volume and then re-sold them in small batches to shopowners in the nation’s towns. That information may or may not be available in any archives, so in the end, the Ingraham $2 pocket watch story might not make it into the book.

However, as typically happens for me, as soon as I turn my attention away from one enticing collection, I find myself in the midst of a host of material that suits some other aspect of the book research. (Nothing, I tell you, NOTHING beats the fun of serendipity in the archives!)

What did I find? A glorious collection of ephemera and sales records for the E.E. Dickinson Witch Hazel Company of Essex, Connecticut. One of the chapters I’m writing is on the variety of goods and services related to a townsperson’s health, all of which they could get on Main Street. There was quite a bit of overlap between what was a “good”, a “service” and also a ways to participate in community life in the many shops and offices in downtown small town America between 1870-1930. For example, one might go to the town druggist to purchase a prescription from a local doctor, a box of candy, or sit at the soda fountain and gab with friends over a strawberry fizz. Barber and beauty shops were where one got one’s haircut or styled, but also where one socialized with a gendered group of residents. Doctors were where one received diagnoses and health recommendations, but also where one might purchase a drug remedy (many physicians made their own drugs during the early part of my period of study). I’m interested in looking at how Americans living in small towns attended to their health needs because understanding healthcare history before drug and health insurance, medical malpractice, and managed care may be valuable for understanding our contemporary struggles with the industry. Or at the very least, this history offers an interesting comparison to the practices and standards the current day.

The story of Dickinson’s Witch Hazel fits right into this chapter because it was a factory-produced astringent that became an everyday remedy for minor ills. It was sold all over the country in drugstores and used extensively in small town doctor’s offices. And this time, I found records that show national distribution. For example, during the mid-1920s there were many letters between Dickinson executives and the Druggist Supply Corporation (DSC). The DSC was made up of retailers across America, many of which were located in small towns (Fresno, CA; Peoria, IL; Ottumwa, IA; Burlington, IA; Fort Wayne, IN; Rock Island, IL among many others). By working with that organization, Dickinson assured that they would get their product into those shop owners’ hands.

There were also several large company scrapbooks with hundreds of ads, letters from happy vendors, testimonials, and the like. For example, there was a letter from the owner of a drug store in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He was thanking the Dickinson Company for sending him a set of booklets to give out to his customers with their purchase of a bottle of Witch Hazel. With his letter of thanks, he included a clipping from the local newspaper which documents his announcement of the Witch Hazel booklet’s availability. He also noted that he gave a bunch of the booklets to a teacher at a nearby rural school for their students.

I could go on and on, but you’ll have to wait for the book. Overall, my visit to Archives & Special Collections was a success, both in terms of clarifying the role of Ingraham in the book and adding to my health-related goods and services chapter. [KJM]

Hypocrite Lecteur: Final Post – The Moral

Posted on May 5, 2014 by Melissa Watterworth Batt

Daniel Allie is a senior undergraduate student in English. This is the final post in his series Hypocrite Lecteur …

I have kept nothing back, nor ought have I extenuated ; neither have I dealt in ornamental flourishes, for to the graces of refined composition I have little title, or indeed ambition, to lay claim. Plain truth I adopted as a polar star, which I intend to pursue invariably without compelling the reader to dance over the fairy land of metaphor, or grope through the darksome vallies of allegory (Tufts 364).

A fine way to end things. Here as I end this series I’m glad to report that I likely have a better claim on the truth of these words than Henry Tufts did, yet this isn’t enough for an end. I have now traversed the darksome valleys of the novel, autobiography, comedy, biography, oratory, and sermons, roughly between the years 1790 and 1810, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from these texts, it’s that everything needs a moral. I need to leave you with something you may not have heard before but which is clearly exemplified through what I have been saying all along.

So here’s a moral for you: this literature is important. This literature is worth reading. This literature is good. It can be everything literature today is; it’s funny, sad, and surprising; it can entertain us as much as it can teach us. These texts are preserved in the archives, and they deserve to be there.

When we read Thomas Bellamy’s The Beggar Boy, we get a strangely frenetic and entertaining story, and see early nineteenth-century state of the novel; In Henry Tufts, we get the most ridiculously entertaining narrative I’ve ever read, along with the historical context to make it objectively important, the same way that Deborah Gannett’s life and The Female Review were important, regardless of how unfortunate her own self-repudiation was; In Theodore Hook’s The Soldier’s Return, we see an amusing glimpse of comedy, and the regard towards theater in the United States; and in the execution sermons, the application of capital punishment in the moral and economic life of society. Continue reading →

A Mouse in the Hamper: Margaret Waring Buck Papers

Posted on May 1, 2014 by Melissa Watterworth Batt

On the first page of her sketch pad, Margaret Waring Buck provides a simple explanation for the drawings that follow, “Caught wild mouse in clothes hamper in upstairs bedroom closet. Sketched it then let it go.” The ensuing series of sketches picture the mouse in a variety of moods and positions – cleaning itself, climbing the sides of the hamper, and avoiding daylight, which appeared a minor annoyance. “Active when first caught,” Buck observes, “Only annoyed by light in eyes.”

Born in New York City in 1905, Buck was a graduate of the Art Students League in New York, an art school that has been continuously operating since 1875. A resident of Mystic, CT, until her death in 1997, she wrote and illustrated books about nature for children and published the bulk of her work during the 1950s through the late 1970s.

Included in the Margaret Waring Buck Papers, housed in Archives & Special Collections, are many nature sketches like the ones of the mouse, which Buck drew from observation. When I first began looking through Buck’s published work I assumed that as a naturalist she drew at least some of her illustrations of animals from real life. Her sketches, however, shed light on just how closely Buck’s encounters with nature informed her work. Accompanying the mouse sketches are drawings of two baby opossums that visited Buck’s back porch over the course of several months. Another beautiful series of watercolor sketches feature a detailed day-by-day description of a caterpillar, caught and kept by Buck in a plastic terrarium, transforming into a butterfly. Such intimate encounters were a routine part of life for someone who was naturally curious about the intricacies of life in the natural world.

Buck sketched the mouse in December 1966. While most of the sketches are unaccompanied by notes, some include observations on the mouse’s behavior and appearance. Below a drawing that emphasizes the mouse’s long, tail, doe eyes, and whiskers, she notes, “Tail white under, whiskers long, used as antennae.”

More mouse sketches, drawn over the course of the next two months indicate that the mouse – or one of his friends – became a repeat visitor to the hamper. Buck included the precise date and time of her encounters with animals next to her drawings of them. The following timeline offers some insight into her ongoing interest in the mouse: “Jan 23 – got out; Jan 31 – caught again – in collar[?] in hamper” and then finally, “Jan 31 – Goodbye, off to woods.”

Of course, this was not her last run-in with mice. A post-script, written two years later, indicates that Buck’s clothes hamper remained a popular temporary home for the small creatures during the winter seasons. She continued using these encounters as opportunities to sketch and observe them.

Rebecca D’Angelo is a senior undergraduate student in History and Anthropology. She is a writing intern and student curator in Archives and Special Collections at the Dodd Research Center, University of Connecticut.

Sandra Horning’s Blog Post #3

Posted on April 29, 2014 by Kristin Eshelman

Blog entry #3 – Meet William Gray

Looking through more than twenty boxes of the James Marshall Collection has made me feel close to this man I will never have the good fortune to meet. Marshall published about eighty books, many with both his illustrations and text. It is hard to imagine how much he would have produced if he had not died at the early age of 50. In fact, many days I have left the Dodd Center feeling a great sense of loss at his death. Through a friend, I was able to meet Marshall’s longtime partner, William Gray. I met William at the home he and James shared for much of Marshall’s career. For my final blog entry, I’ve included a few of William’s answers to the questions he generously and kindly provided. My thanks go out to William Gray for sharing his time and memories of James Marshall.

James Marshall giving a presentation (James Marshall Papers Collection File photograph, n.d.)

As I mentioned in my first blog, James Marshall wrote many of his books under the pseudonym Edward Marshall. William explained that Marshall wanted to work with more than one publisher. In order to not compete with his own picture books, the pseudonym was used and he wrote in a different genre, beginning readers. “They really suited his talent. I wouldn’t say they were easy to do just because they were easy to read. It was something that just came more naturally to him, the smaller format.”

To clarify that the comments in the margins of the dummies and manuscripts are Marshall’s, I asked about the handwriting and if William knew if anyone else wrote comments on Marshall’s work. William replied that, “He [Marshall] used a Schaefer fountain pen with those plastic capsules to draw with and to write with. He had pretty distinctive handwriting, but no one came near his work.”

I went on to ask specifically about the Harry Allard and Jeffery Allen manuscripts I discussed in my second blog post. William told me that Allard and Allen were both friends of Marshall before each collaborated on books with him. “They would mail a manuscript to him [Marshall]. He would tear it apart limb from limb and then put it back together according to what he thought was best.”

I noted that almost all of Marshall’s changes went to print and William agreed,“Oh, they made every change he suggested. He ran the show….Jim appreciated their inventiveness. I mean Harry came up with The Stupids and with Miss Nelson. But as for shaping a story, that was always Jim’s work.”

William and I talked about Marshall’s ability to critique his own work. “Jim was extremely critical of his own work and any work,” William told me. “Nothing was perfect. Even if it was a masterpiece he would find something to criticize, always. He would very seldom say, ‘I guess this is pretty good.’ He had critical faculties that kicked in and that is what kept him going.”

This comment came back to me when I went through Maurice Sendak’s bequest of additional James Marshall material. Sendak and Marshall were good friends, and Sendak owned several of Marshall’s book dummies and original artwork, most of which are now with the Marshall Collection. Among these Sendak materials is a book that Marshall created for Sendak’s birthday. The book is extraordinary, with wonderful characters wishing Maurice a happy birthday. Marshall also includes a short story from his future publication Rats on the Roof. At the end of the story, Marshall is once again critical of his endings, drawing two rats with speech bubbles. The first rat says, “Rather Chekhovian, don’t you feel?” The second rat replies, “He never could come up with decent endings.”

A page from the Birthday Book for Maurice Sendak from James Marshall (Maurice Sendak Collection of James Marshall Box 2012.0152.2). All rights reserved. No reproduction of any kind allowed.

I asked William if there was a work that Marshall was most proud of or that achieved what Marshall wanted? William replied, “I can tell you I really, really appreciate the Fox books. I think his talent went into that in a way that really expressed himself and certainly delights me.” William went on to say that Marshall “was kind of stuck in the George and Martha books pretty much in the framework of a relation between two people, but with the Fox books there would be all kinds of plots and subplots. None of those characters is two dimensional. In just a few sentence you know exactly who they are. I even have people say, ‘Oh, well obviously he used me for Carmen.’”

This led me to ask if Marshall was most like Fox. William said, “I think so… There is a lot of Jim in Fox.” William and I continued on to discuss the brilliant endings and humor in the Fox stories, and the way the humor was not spelled out. William said that was intentional. In fact, it was“his [Marshall’s] number one rule. Never condescend to children. Don’t do it ever.”

Most of Marshall’s sketchbooks and drafts are marked with a place and date. It became clear that he worked constantly, even while traveling. There are often to-do lists in the midst of his sketches. In one list from a trip to Cape Cod on March 10, Marshall is “working on a dummy for Yummers II, driving to Boston, going to lunch, meeting with someone from Houghton Mifflin, doing something at Nickelodeon, driving back to the Cape, picking up lamb shanks, and working in bed on Roberta Molesworthy (an iffy book).”

A page from Marshall's sketches. (James Marshall Papers. Box 8:Folder 170). All rights reserved. No reproduction of any kind allowed.

The year isn’t dated, but Yummers Too was published in 1986. If Marshall was working on a dummy for this book, I can guess the date would be around 1984. Williams said that Marshall always worked. “Everything was integrated into his work.” He didn’t like to fly and preferred to work on trains. “He’d take a train to Texas or California. He loved to work on the train.”

In addition to sketchbooks, William said Marshall also kept extensive diaries. William has kept these diaries, but I did find one trip diary in the collection. The year isn’t dated, however, I can guess from what he was working on that it is probably from around 1990. The diary is all text and details his trip to New Orleans, including what he read each day: “finished a book on Janet Flanner…masterful novel by Nina Berberova, The Accompanist… Editon Wharton.”

A page from Marshall's trip diary to New Orleans. (James Marshall Papers. Box 21:Folder 299). All rights reserved. No reproduction of any kind allowed.

Marshall was also a voracious reader. William showed me the special shelves Marshall had built around his room to hold some of his books.

A list of books from the Marshall Collection. (James Marshall Papers. Box 21:folder 303). All rights reserved. No reproduction of any kind allowed.

William said he liked “Moliere and Chekhov…and a lot of the British women novelists like Elizabeth Taylor and Jean Rhys.” I found a piece of paper with a list of books in the collection. I am assuming these were books Marshall had read or books he purchased to read.

The page was numbered 67.

I’ve learned much in going through the Marshall papers and in talking with William Gray. James Marshall was incredibly talented in his ability to do both quality text and illustrations. He worked very hard to achieve the high quality. Going forward, it will be impossible for me to view my own work without giving it a more critical look: What would James Marshall say? He would most likely say “it could be better” and he would probably be right. Achieving the highest quality takes not only talent, but the sweat, tears, and labor of hard work. On that note, with all that I have gleaned from seeing Marshall’s process, it is time that I get back to the hard work of improving my own manuscripts. Thank you James Marshall, and thank you to the Dodd Research Center and the providers of the James Marshall Fellowship.

Hypocrite Lecteur: Execution Sermons

Posted on April 29, 2014 by Melissa Watterworth Batt

When a man is so destitute of a sense of morality and the fear of God, and, by the commission of enormous crimes, becomes such a dangerous member of society, as to render it necessary that he be taken off by the hand of justice, the feelings of the public are, in some degree, interested in his history (Welch 19).

“In some degree?” Understatement of the year, Rev. Mr. Moses C. Welch, in your native 1805 or any other year. People were interested, whether it the was the case of Samuel Freeman, Caleb Adams, Richard Doane or Henry Blackburn—condemned and executed murderers all—and so the public sermons spoken at their deaths were printed into nice little salable pamphlets including extra features.

Consequently, from these pamphlets we can get a really clear image of what kind of Continue reading →

Spring Sports at UConn

Posted on April 25, 2014 by Betsy Pittman

In April 1934, Connecticut State College hosted the national archery tournament and archers from all over the country battled it out on the athletic fields. Over time the campus grew and the athletic fields gave way to construction (Babbidge Library, Dodd Research Center, ITE, School of Business and Connecticut Commons) but the long tradition of archery remains.

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Eighty years later in April 2014, on the Depot Campus of UConn, the UConn Archery team hosted the Eastern Regional Intercollegiate Archery Championships. At least two UConn archers qualified to move on to the US Intercollegiate Archery Championship which will be held 15-18 May 2014 in Long Beach, California.

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Congratulations and best wishes to our Husky Archers as they move on to the national competition!

War, Struggle, and Visual Politics: Art on the Frontlines

Posted on April 17, 2014 by Graham Stinnett

April 21 – April 22, 2014

The Archives and Special Collections in collaboration with the Dodd Center and Booklyn Artists Alliance, are hosting two days of events on War, Struggle and Visual Politics: Art on the Frontlines. Events will be held in the Dodd Research Center on April 21st and 22nd in conjunction with the Week In Humanities. Artists Seth Tobocman, Stephen Dupont, Marshall Weber, Chantelle Bateman and Aaron Hughes will be holding talks, workshops and presenting artwork around the focus of politics and activism in art and war. Students, community members, veterans and artists are encouraged to attend these events to provide a dynamic facilitation of how we utilize art, activism and memory to cope with war.

Art work will be on display in galleries as follows:Aaron Hughes : Institute for the Humanities : College of Liberal Arts and Sciences

Seth Tobocman : Contemporary Art Gallery : School of Fine Art

Stephen Dupont : Coop Bookstore : Downtown Stores

For a full list of events, please follow this link for the Week in Humanities.

Hypocrite Lecteur: Deborah Sampson Gannett

Posted on April 15, 2014 by Melissa Watterworth Batt

I cannot desire you to adopt the example of our Heroine, should the like occasion offer ; yet, we must do her justice. (Mann 116)

Thus speaks Herman Mann, the author of The Female Review: or, Memoirs of an American Young Lady (1797), whose opinions in addition to his doubly-masculine name indicate his deep disapproval of his subject, Deborah Sampson Gannett, an unusual woman “whose life and character are peculiarly distinguished—Being a continental soldier for nearly three years in the late American war” (Mann 1).

That’s right, folks—here, after looking at the indomitable Henry Tufts, we have yet another unlikely veteran of the American Revolution, this time a woman, who, finding herself too constrained by society, “determined to burst the bands, which, it must be confessed, have too often held her sex in awe” (Mann 110), and “join[ed] the American Army in the character of a voluntary soldier” (114), “enrolled by the name of ROBERT SHURTLIEFF” (Mann 129).

Sound fascinating? Certainly. Brave? Undoubtedly. Improper? Ask Mann. Mann must ask the question of what to do with this woman war hero, as it is his self-appointed task to tell of Gannett’s actions, but his disapproval is apparent everywhere, beginning with a disclaimer that he writes “not with intentions to encourage the like paradigm of FEMALE ENTERPRISE—but because such a thing, in the course of nature, has occurred” (Mann iii). Get the picture? Don’t anybody get any ideas. You’re only hearing this story because it’s true. It happened, and Gannett did fine, and served her country with honor, but Mann doesn’t want to risk indicating approval.

Mann does, however, intend to influence the conduct of American women, with his text becoming by intention one of instruction. He begins by saying “there are but two degrees in the characters of mankind, that seem to arrest the attention of the public. The first is that of him, which is the most distinguished in laudable and virtuous achievements. . . The second, that of him, who has arrived to the greatest pitch of vice and wickedness” (Mann v), and that “whilst the former ever demands our love and imitation, the other should serve to fortify our minds against its own attacks.” Stories of virtue and stories of vice can all lead you to virtue. Mann doesn’t say which he thinks this story is, though, and when we consider that Henry Tufts speaks in the same way of his criminal autobiography, “that [the life] of the vicious, affords, also, instruction, by showing effects of vice and immorality” (Tufts vii), regard doesn’t seem too high for Gannett in The Female Review. Continue reading →

Remembering a Professor of Revolutionary Imagination

Posted on April 14, 2014 by Kristin Eshelman

It is with much sadness that we learn of the passing of Fred Ho, a composer, musician, writer, activist and self-described “professor of revolutionary imagination.” The Fred Ho Papers are held in Archives & Special Collections, a relationship built by Dr. Roger Buckley, professor of history and founding Director of the Asian American Studies Institute. The finding aid to the papers, prepared by the Asian American Studies Institute, describes Mr. Ho:

Fred Ho, the Asian American musician, composer, writer, and activist combines music and politics to fight discrimination and redefine American identity. He has developed a “new American multicultural music” which recognizes the diverse cultural contributions to twentieth century American music. His revolutionary compositions challenge the status quo by providing an artistically provocative vision for the future. Ho’s intent in composing music is not only to recognize different forms, but to convey anti-oppression messages that provide an alternate framework upon which American identity is defined.

A commitment to multiculturalism and diversity has not always been an integral part of Ho’s character. His coming of age as an Asian American was marked by feelings of denial, anger, and confusion about his Chinese identity. As a result, Ho has dealt with racial discrimination in different ways throughout his life, first by assimilating, then by confronting it through activism and music. Now a prominent musician, Ho works to raise social consciousness by transforming his experience into positive action.

Filmmaker Steven de Castro shares his view of the endless creativity of Fred Ho.

Mr. Ho’s obituary appears in the New York Times, April 12, 2014. Rest in peace.

Teale Lecture Tonight: “Climate, Weather, Oceans, and Biodiversity: Science in Policy and Politics”

Posted on April 10, 2014 by Melissa Watterworth Batt

Dr. Jane Lubchenco, Former Administrator of NOAA and Valley Professor of Marine Biology, Oregon State University, will give a talk entitled “Climate, Weather, Oceans, and Biodiversity: Science in Policy and Politics” for the University of Connecticut’s Edwin Way Teale Lecture Series on Nature and the Environment. The talk will take place on Thursday, April 10, 4 pm at the Thomas J. Dodd Research Center, Konover Auditorium, at UConn. The lecture is free and open to the public.

Dr. Jane Lubchenco’s research interests include community ecology, conservation biology, biodiversity, global change, and sustainability. She was the first woman to be appointed Under Secretary of Commerce for Oceans and Atmosphere and Administrator of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), serving in the position from 2009 to 2013. As NOAA Administrator, Dr. Lubchenco made restoring fisheries to sustainability and profitability, healthy oceans and coasts, ensuring continuity of the nation’s weather and other environmental satellites, developing a “Weather-Ready Nation,” promoting climate science, and strengthening science at NOAA top priorities.

The Edwin Way Teale Lecture Series brings leading scholars and scientists to the University of Connecticut to present public lectures on nature and the environment. The lectures are open to the public and do not require registration. For additional information please call 860.486.4460 or visit http://doddcenter.uconn.edu/asc/events/teale/teale.htm.

Exhibition Highlights from “For Young Naturalists: Ocean Ecology in Children’s Literature”

Posted on April 8, 2014 by Melissa Watterworth Batt

The idea to create “For Young Naturalists” was a product of two major influences: my desire to curate an exhibition (which I’ve always wanted to do) and my desire to explore the NCLC Collections. I’ve always been aware that Archives and Special Collections is home to over 40,000 children’s books and serials, but until this semester I had never viewed any of them.

Though I originally intended to focus on ocean ecology in children’s literature as a way to complement themes covered in the final two Edwin Way Teale Lectures of the semester, my exhibit quickly took on a new interpretive life. Children’s books are powerful tools for teaching children and young adults age-appropriate information about a variety of topics. As I browsed the books, I tried to determine how each book conveyed information, simply entertained, or communicated a broader message to their readers. I then considered artistic choices made by the authors and illustrators, and how relationships between humans and the ocean, and amongst ocean creatures, were depicted.

I discovered that the ethic of each book reflects the beliefs and attitudes of the time period in which they were produced. The earliest examples from the nineteenth century, including The Ocean and its Inhabitants: With their Uses to Man (1844), describe the process of extracting oil from whale blubber, and the common usage of this oil. This provided a stark contrast to later examples, such as Whales Way (1972), which anthropomorphizes humpbacks and vilifies the humans who hunt them.

I also discovered that time affects content in another way: as our knowledge of ecological relationships becomes more complex, so do our stories. In My Grandpa and the Sea (1990) the main character’s grandfather begins to farm sea moss as his traditional fishing methods can no longer compete with more efficient technology. Ocean Sunlight: How Tiny Plants Feed the Sea (2012) describes, in simplified terms, why phytoplankton are crucial to all ocean life.

“For Young Naturalists,” on display through this Thursday, includes children’s books and associated artwork from the late 19^th century through the present, though the majority of the materials included date from the late 1960s – to the early 1990s. Three of my favorite items in the exhibit are outlined below.

Along the Seashore, Written & Illustrated by Margaret Waring Buck (1964)

Margaret Waring Buck dedicated Along the Seashore (1964) to “beginner naturalists;” I chose to use a modified version of this descriptor as the title for this exhibition. Along the Seashore is only one of several examples of Margaret Waring Buck’s work in Archives & Special Collections. As an author and illustrator who lived along the Connecticut shoreline, Buck focused primarily on illustrating books about nature for children. Her papers, which include original artwork for her other nature-themed books also include sketchbooks filled with nature drawings based on observation. Along the Seashore is a unique encyclopedia for seashore discovery. Covering plants to water birds, it provides children with the common names and basic facts about species they might find along the seashore, complimented by realistic sketches. I love the neatness of Buck’s artwork and the dignity she confers on her juvenile readers by entrusting them with complex knowledge about ocean creatures.

The Year of the Seal by Victor B Scheffer, Illustrated by Leonard Everett Fischer (1970)

This book, intended for young adult and adult readers, but appropriate for younger audiences, follows the development of a baby Alaskan fur seal during the first year of its life. The book is similar to another written by Victor B. Scheffer, a biologist, and illustrated by Fischer, titled The Year of the Whale, which follows the development of a baby sperm whale calf during the first year of its life. Though Year of the Seal is informational, it is also poetic. Commenting on man’s attempts to describe the ocean writes, Scheffer writes in an aside, “The ocean rolls on, untouched by words. It rolls to the turning of the earth, and the heat and pull of the sun, and the drag of the moon, and the influences of all the solid and gaseous matter of the universe.” Original illustrations for both The Year of the Seal and The Year of the Whale, as well as a third book included in the exhibit (The Journey of the Gray Whales by Gladys Conklin, 1974) are housed in Fischer’s papers at Archives & Special Collections.

An Ocean World, Written & Illustrated by Peter Sis (1992)

Sparse in text, Peter Sis’s beautiful watercolor illustrations follow the journey of a whale, recently released into the ocean, in his attempt to find a friend. Though the book is less realistic, it is highly imaginative, depicting the young whale in a variety of situations – coming face to face with a submarine, finding love with another whale – that are comical, jarring, relatable, and insightful. The image on the left, featured on the poster for the exhibit, depicts the moment when the whale is first released into the ocean. Though it depicts humans performing a “helping” act, the dark colors in the background and the inherent ambiguity of the image when viewed out of context (Is the whale being removed from the water? Or put back into it?) accurately suggest a complex relationship between man and whale.

Rebecca D’Angelo is a senior undergraduate student in History and Anthropology. She is student curator of the exhibition Archives and Special Collections at the Dodd Research Center, University of Connecticut.

Railroad photographs now online

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Laura Smith

We’ve blogged previously about our efforts to develop the Connecticut Digital Archive; you’ll recall that many of the Nuremberg Trial documents in the Thomas J. Dodd Papers are now online. We’re putting more content online now and one of our latest set of photographs is the New Haven Railroad Glass Negatives Collection.

To see the photographs when you visit the Connecticut Digital Archive, click on “Browse Digital Collections” and then on “New Haven Railroad Glass Negatives Collection.” There are 148 photographs of New Haven Railroad cars — baggage, parlor, dining, sleeping and coaches — from the early 1900s. Many of the exterior views of the cars are accompanied by an interior view, like the photograph above of parlor car 2153.

Another way to view this particular set of photographs is from the finding aid to the collection. Go to the finding aid and scroll down to the descriptions of the individual photographs. You’ll find a link to the image in the digital archive. You really can’t get any cooler than that.

This is just the beginning of our delivering our resources to you online. Stay tuned for more!