The MHS holds three manuscript diaries kept by Ruth Evelyn Beck in 1919, 1920 and 1921. They describe social activities with family and friends including parties, dances, movies, her job, church activities, the local news, and courtship. Along with the diaries there are loose printed items such as dance cards and letters. While using the collection in the MHS reading room today, a researcher happened upon these fun Halloween items.
Along with an invitation to a Halloween party in 1920 are a dance card and table placard from the party.
Ruth Beck’s 1920 Halloween party table placardRuth Beck’s dance card from the 1920 Halloween party
The Halloween party is noted in her diary entry for 22 October 1920.
by Susan Martin, Processing Archivist & EAD Coordinator
Detail from Nathanael Low’s almanac, 1818
You will see in the paper an account of a strange animal, denominated a Sea-Serpent, seen last week in the harbour of Cape-Ann. The account is undoubtedly correct in the main, but is so general as to leave us in much doubt and perplexity what to think of this formidable visitor and how to class him.
This excerpt comes from a letter by John Davis of Boston, Mass. to his son-in-law Rev. Ezra Shaw Goodwin. The correspondence of Davis, Goodwin, and other family members was recently acquired by the MHS.
John Davis (1761-1847) was a U.S. District Court judge for 40 years. He was also the president of the short-lived Linnaean Society of New England, an organization established in 1814 to promote the study of natural history. The society hosted lectures, organized tours, and operated a museum, but may be best remembered for its investigation into sightings of an alleged sea serpent in Gloucester Harbor.
According to an article published in the Boston Daily Advertiser on 18 August 1817, a “prodigious snake” had been sighted in the harbor by “hundreds of people” over the course of several days. The animal was described as somewhere between 50 and 100 feet long and as thick as a barrel, with a head the size of a horse’s head (but resembling a dog’s), and was said to move acrobatically through the water at tremendous speed. Attempts to shoot it or capture it had failed.
The Linnaean Society was on the case. Members of the society went to Cape Ann to see if they could catch a glimpse of the mysterious animal. A committee—composed of Davis himself, Jacob Bigelow, and Francis C. Gray—was appointed to interview witnesses and prepare a report for publication and distribution to scientific societies around the world. The Linnaeans were very excited, but accounts varied widely and might be unreliable, as Davis warned in a postscript.
Still, as the animal was seen so imperfectly and in swift motion, great allowance must be made, and it is difficult to say what part is to be received as inference or conjecture.
Over the next few months, Davis kept Goodwin apprised of developments. In his letters, he compared the Gloucester sea serpent to similar sightings in Penobscot Bay, Me. (“it appeared so strange and wonderful that the Academy declined publishing it”) and Plymouth, Mass. Could this be the same creature? Some even claimed an animal had washed ashore as far away as the Orkney Islands “to which our portentous stranger may be supposed to bear a resemblance.” Fortunately, although the Gloucester sea serpent was “sufficiently terrific indeed” and thrashed about in the water “little mindful of Boats,” it showed no signs of “a mischievous or malignant temper.”
On 27 September 1817, Gorham Norwood, a resident of Gloucester, discovered and killed an unfamiliar snake on the beach. The snake was only about three feet long, but had a strange “undulating” spine, so it was brought to the Linnaean Society for examination. Based on its proximity to the harbor sightings (and apparently not much else), this specimen was assumed to be the “progeny of the great serpent.”
Fold-out plate from the Linnaean Society report, 1817
The Linnaean Society’s report was finished by November 1817, and Davis sent a copy to Goodwin. What was its conclusion? The sea serpent was not only real, but an undiscovered species! The society classified it Scoliophis atlanticus.
Davis admitted, “It was rather bold to come out with a new Genus, in the present advanced state of Natural History, but we thought the characteristics of the creature required it.” Goodwin agreed, but would the scientific community? The Linnaeans had based their case entirely on eyewitness testimonies and the serpent’s alleged offspring. Davis wrote, “We shall see the result in due time – time also the great discoverer will doubtless shed new light on the subject.”
Indeed, the Boston Society of Natural History definitively debunked the Linnaean Society’s findings in its Proceedings of 1863 (vol. 9, p. 245) and 1868 (vol. 12, pp. 184-5). The “progeny” of the serpent, preserved in the Linnaean Society’s collections for decades, was reexamined and found to be a common black snake (Coluber constrictor) with a deformed spine. And the sightings were attributed to mistaken identity, a “humpbacked whale scooping fish” being the most likely explanation. The Scoliophis atlanticus was declared a “myth.”
When cataloging this collection (incidentally, the first time I’ve used the Library of Congress subject heading “sea monsters”), I found that the MHS holds a few pamphlets on the subject of the Gloucester sea serpent, including a copy of the Linnaean Society report, an account by Hon. David Humphreys of the Royal Society of London, and Nathanael Low’s 1818 almanac, with drawings and a summary of the story. For a three-dimensional representation, visit the Cape Ann Museum in Gloucester, Mass., which is home to a statue of the Gloucester sea serpent by sculptor Chris Williams.
This week we have a seminar, a brown-bag lunch, and a sneak preview of our upcoming exhibition. Fire! Voices from the Boston Massacreopens to the public on Thursday, 31 October. Here is a look at what is planned:
On Tuesday, 29 October, at 5:15 PM: Sesame Street & the Cultural Politics of the Spoken Word in the 1970s with Kathryn Ostrofsky, Freelance Historian, and comment by Victoria Cain, Northeastern University. Sesame Street’s creators, audiences, and social activists all tried to use the popular television program as a tool to shape American society. The resulting discussions reveal that the sound of the spoken word played an important role in media representations of culture and community. People contested the messages conveyed by working-class accents, African American slang, and the Spanish language as they encouraged Sesame Street to embody Great Society liberalism or to engender a pluralistic society. This is part of the Boston Seminar on Modern American Society and Culture series. Seminars are free and open to the public.
On Wednesday, 30 October, at 12:00 PM: Inhuman Women & Puritanical Legacies in The VVitch 2015 withAmber Hodge, University of Mississippi. The VVitch (2015) visualizes historical oppression as an origin for present-day animalization and concordant disenfranchisement of women who operate outside of proscribed social norms. This talk connects MHS’s archives to The VVitch’s depiction of animality as both feminine and evil to demonstrate the legacy of patriarchal puritanism and possibilities for resistance. This is part of the Brown-bag lunch program. Brown-bags are free and open to the public.
On Wednesday, 30 October, 6:00 PM:Fire! Voices from the Boston Massacre Sneak Preview Reception. On March 5, 1770, British soldiers occupying the town of Boston shot into a crowd, killing five civilians. The incident quickly became known as the Boston Massacre. Through a selection of first-person accounts, artifacts, and trial notes, this exhibition explores what it meant to be living in an occupied city and how this flash point changed the course of American history. This event is open only to MHS Fellows and Members. Please note that registration has closed and this event is SOLD OUT.
Abigail Adams: Life & Legacy Pop-Up Display Abigail Adams urged her husband to “Remember the Ladies” and made herself impossible to forget. But Abigail is memorable for more than her famous 1776 admonition. This final Remember Abigail display uses documents and artifacts through the ages to consider the way Abigail viewed her own legacy and to explore how and why we continue to Remember Abigail. Join us for a gallery talk on 22 November at 2:00 PM.
Fire! Voices from the Boston Massacreopens on Thursday, 31 October
On the evening of March 5, 1770, soldiers occupying the town of Boston shot into a crowd, killing or fatally wounding five civilians. In the aftermath of what soon became known as the Boston Massacre, questions about the command to “Fire!” became crucial. Who yelled it? When and why? Because the answers would determine the guilt or innocence of the soldiers, defense counsel John Adams insisted that “Facts are stubborn things.” But what are the facts? The evidence, often contradictory, drew upon testimony from dozens of witnesses. Through a selection of artifacts, eyewitness accounts, and trial testimony—the voices of ordinary men and women—Fire! Voice from the Boston Massacre explores how this flashpoint changed American history. The exhibition is on display at the MHS October 31, 2019 through June 30, 2020, Monday and Wednesday through Saturday from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM, and Tuesday from 10:00 AM to 7:00 PM.
Every day the very talented and skilled archivists of the MHS work behind the scenes to ensure that the Society’s collections are well preserved, well organized, and easily accessible for researchers today and tomorrow. To celebrate archives month, we asked a few of our archivists a few fun questions so you could get better acquainted.
Why did you decide to be an archivist?
Alexandra Bush, Digital Productions Assistant (AB): I went into the archives field because I’ve always loved history and wanted to find a way to celebrate that without the need for social skills.
Katherine H Griffin, Nora Saltonstall Preservation Librarian (KG): I decided to be an Archivist when I was studying in graduate school in a public history program. I was originally interested in working in a museum, but I quickly found that I had an affinity for working with historical manuscripts.
Brenda Lawson, Vice President for Collections (BL): I became interested in archives while I was working in the Williams College Archives as an undergraduate. Instead of pursuing graduate work in psychology (my major), I found myself looking at job announcements and graduate programs in archives. I chose to go directly to Simmons College to pursue my library science degree with a concentration in archives management. I later added an M.A. in history when the college began offering the dual degree program.
Anna Clutterbuck-Cook, Reference Librarian (AC): At the age of 12 I got my public history start as a volunteer docent at a house museum in our town; after earning my B.A. in history I decided to pursue graduate degrees in history and library science so that I could hone my research skills and help make sources for historical storytelling accessible to all.
What is your Archive-story?
AB: It’s not a very interesting archive story, but I’ll always remember the end of my first internship here. I worked for Collections Services processing a collection of 14 cartons, the Thornton W. Burgess papers. The collection took months of work to process and was one of my first large projects. Maybe a month after my internship ended, I got an email from Laura Lowell, one of our processing archivists, letting me know that a researcher had requested to work with the collection. There’s no better feeling than that!
KG: The Librarian who was here when I started–Mr. John D. Cushing–was an exacting critic and somewhat difficult to please. He made some very useful suggestions about my writing style that I have never forgotten–for instance, how to use the verb “to comprise,” and how to avoid using the intransitive in writing. I will always be grateful that I had the benefit of his tutelage, early in my career.
AC: When I first moved to Boston in 2007 one of the first archives I visited was the Schlesinger Library which holds the records of the Boston Women’s Health Book Collective, creators of groundbreaking 1970s women’s health text Our Bodies, Ourselves. I got to read correspondence and other documents relating to the early editions of the book–and then several years later I was invited to participate in producing new material for the 40th anniversary edition! Once a researcher who accessed the OBOS archive, I then became a project participant whose contributions would in turn become a part of their historical records for future generations of researchers.
What is a fun fact about you?
AB: As a young child I met one of the members of Metallica. He was close with my friend’s parents so we visited his house and used his Jacuzzi. I didn’t know who he was back then and still can’t remember which band member it was.
KG: Hmmm. I love interacting with the public even though I’m often buried in the basement. I also love solving manuscript mysteries: dating undated items, and deciphering difficult handwriting.
BL: I can polka backwards.
AC: I got my first tattoo, an illustration from the children’s book Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransome, as a reward for finishing library school.
What is your favorite collection/item?
AB: It’s hard to pick one favorite item from the collection, but I do love the Sarah Gooll Putnam diaries. SGP, who eventually became a portrait painter, filled her 27 volume diary with sketches in addition to writing and photographs. Over the years–she began the diary at age 9 and stopped at age 61–her art evolves and becomes more sophisticated.
KG: My favorite item/s in the collection are ships’ logs. I’m continually amazed at the life of the seamen, the hardships, and their endurance.
AC: This summer I was introduced to I am an American: First Lessons in Citizenship by Sarah Cone Bryant (1920), an example of the nationalist narratives produced to educate U.S. schoolchildren during a period of strong anti-immigration sentiment. The text helps me see how ideologies from the early twentieth century continue to influence our political and cultural crosscurrents today.
Dan Hinchen, Reference Librarian: I think my favorite item is the Porcineograph created for William Emerson Baker, owner of Ridge Hill Farm. It’s a striking image with a lot of fun details to take in if you look closely.
Nancy Heywood, Senior Archivist for Digital Initiatives: One of my favorite items in the collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society is a 4-page manuscript draft of a letter from Roger Sherman to Françios Marbois written in November of 1782 describing many aspects of Connecticut (the history, geography, natural resources, social customs). In the letter, Sherman replied to questions posed by François Marbois, the secretary to the minister from France, Anne-César, Chevalier de La Luzerne. In 1780 Marbois, acting on behalf of the French government, sent requests to representatives in presumably all of the thirteen colonies. Although the replies about Virginia are the best known (because Thomas Jefferson was the author of those responses and he published a lengthy book conveying all the research he did), Sherman’s responses about Connecticut are clear and informative.
I like Sherman’s letter because it is an example of an unexpected document a researcher finds during the course of research in an archival collection and also because the it is a draft. I came across the letter when I was part of a team working on the Society’s digital presentation of Jefferson’s complicated manuscript copy of Notes on the State of Virginia (his lengthy work included numerous additions and changes to his manuscript text). Sherman’s draft letter is a wonderful way to make the reality of Marbois’s questionnaire more apparent. It is evidence that there were many men in many colonies writing, thinking, and revising their answers to questions from a French official.
Now that you have had the chance to get to know a few of our fabulous staff members, visit the MHS to meet the rest of us! We are here to answer your questions, introduce you to the archive, talk about our favorite collections, and guide you in your research.
I can imagine the 18th century historian Thomas Prince turning over the pages of the recently printed Elijah’s Mantle (1722), and wondering if the editors and printers got it right. As a college student Prince had taken an interest in the history of New England and decided he wanted to begin preserving old documents.[1] He now pulled out the original manuscript, a sermon from his grandfather’s generation by the Cambridge pastor Jonathan Mitchell. On comparing the two he must have been surprised at how far the printed version departed from the original. And so Prince decided to fill in the margins with the exact language of the manuscript, now lost. In doing so he preserved the full force of Mitchell’s language about Christ’s kingly government, a way of expressing constitutional resistance to arbitrary rule.
Thomas Prince’s copy of Elijah’s Mantle
As I opened Prince’s copy of Elijah’s Mantle in the Massachusetts Historical Society reading room I was first disappointed that the edges had been cut off by an over-industrious nineteenth-century re-binder. But then I looked more closely at the neat blockish handwriting scattered on the pages of the text, most of which had avoided the knife. The ownership signatures indicated the book had belonged to Thomas Prince, Thomas Prince Jr., and Mercy Prince. At the suggestion of Peter Drummey, the Stephen T. Riley Librarian at the MHS, I spent some time going through Prince Sr.’s own papers to confirm the writing was indeed his. And then I started to use Prince’s annotations as a source for re-assessing Mitchell’s role in the resistance movement of the early Restoration.
Signatures indicate the book belonged to Thomas Prince, Thomas Prince Jr., and Mercy Prince
Jonathan Mitchell died young, but he was one of the most compelling preachers of his day. He had given the sermon extracted for Elijah’s Mantle, called “The Great End and Interest of New-England,” in December of 1662, at a moment when New Englanders were reeling from news of the Act of Uniformity, English legislation that took political rights and freedom of worship away from nonconformists (non-Anglicans) in England. They had also just received a letter from the restored English king Charles II that demanded they redesign their government to benefit wealthy Anglicans. Mitchell was already an intriguing figure for several reasons. First, the magistrate Daniel Gookin, when describing how people mobilized to defy the king in the 1660s, had written, “I remember that eminent Mr. Mitchel, now in heaven . . . speaking of Christ’s Kingly Government upon a civil Acc[oun]t” as one of the most important rationales for constitutional resistance. Second, Mitchell had helped to draft a 1664 letter to the king which explained why the Stuart government’s demands violated their charter liberties, the very reasons men and women had come to New England.
Prince’s annotations on Mitchell’s sermon recovered a stronger version of his words, which the printed edition had tamed down. For example, while the printed version, referring to the feared imposition of Church of England ceremonies, said “to Go backward unto those Things which we knew, have openly Testified…to be not of GOD, and which we departed from, will be such a Wickedness as the Lord’s JEALOUSY will not bear withal,” Prince added from the manuscript: “& Hence for our Civil Government to put forth any act of Consent thereto would be a Thing to be Trembled at.” That this was an important line is confirmed by John Higginson’s quote in his 1663 election sermon: “And for our Civil Government to put forth any act of consent unto either of the former, would be a thing to be trembled at, and Prayed against, that the Lord would keep them from.”[2] In the case of any attempt by England to extend the Act of Uniformity to the colonies, the Massachusetts General Court should hold its ground.
Example of Thomas Prince’s annotations on Jonathan Mitchell’s sermon
Mitchell’s 1662 language provides essential context for the 1664-1665 petition campaigns, when colonists in at least a dozen towns pledged support for the Massachusetts government in its decision to resist the demands of the new regime. From studying the extant town petitions, I had realized that the 1664 petition from Cambridge – Mitchell’s hometown – was probably the first. Colonists had many reasons to oppose any English move toward arbitrary rule, and they were not the only ones to do so. But Mitchell’s understanding of the liberties of self-government as instituted by Christ as well as by the king provided one colonial language for resistance, the stronger version of which has been preserved both by Prince and the MHS.
As a historian, I have mixed feelings about historic anniversaries. I welcome the surge of public and press interest in the past that comes with, say, a centennial, but too often, that attention gets compressed into an On this Day in History factoid. Without context and exploration, the meaning and relevance of a historical event can easily be neglected. Another challenge: What if the event being noted isn’t a cause for celebration?
Consider our current year, 2019, which is the 400th anniversary of the landing of the first enslaved Africans in the fledgling colony of Virginia. How should we best commemorate 1619, essentially the birthdate of slavery in English North America? How can 1619, as well as other “nineteens”—1719, 1819, and 1919—be used as lenses to view the history not just of slavery but also that of Africans and African Americans? Last month, I was honored to take part in a four-person panel organized by the Massachusetts Historical Society that explored the legacies of 1619. Appropriately, we convened on Beacon Hill in the chancel of the African Meeting House, the oldest standing African American church in the country. Frederick Douglass once delivered an address from the very spot where we sat, as did abolitionists Sarah Grimke and William Lloyd Garrison. No pressure, right?
We framed our presentations and discussion around the themes of recognition and resilience. To an engaged audience packing the pews of the nave, Peter Wirzbicki, of Princeton University, spoke about the growing awareness in the North by the 1830s of just how much slavery was thriving. Abolitionists in Boston increasingly recognized that slavery wasn’t merely a Southern institution—Massachusetts’s textile industry depended on the price of cotton, which slave labor helped determine. The 1850 Fugitive Slave Act legally bound all citizens to slavery by requiring them, under the penalty of law, to help capture or return runaways (better term: self-emancipators). As Peter put it, “The Civil War had to free the North as well as the South.” That recognition was slow to develop, with even Abraham Lincoln forswearing any intention to abolish slavery when he took the oath of the president.
Kerri Greenidge, of Tufts University, profiled Boston’s own William Monroe Trotter, whose father, born enslaved, fought for the Union. Trotter, an indefatigable activist, showed resilience through his radicalism. Trotter recognized that business as usual, so to speak, wouldn’t dismantle the ideology and structure of white supremacy. In 1902, he mobilized black Bostonians to protest North Carolina’s attempt to extradite Monroe Rogers, a black man who had fled to Boston out of fear of being lynched after being arrested on trumped-up charges. Rogers had to be protected from a corrupt justice system—and then that system had to be reformed. The nation needed a reconfiguration of its laws, argued Trotter, who also called upon African Americans to defend themselves. As Kerri explained, Trotter exemplified a black radical tradition that took root in 1619. For if slavery was normal, then resisting it was, by definition, radical; and if the laws in 1902 didn’t stop lynching, then resisting those unjust laws was also radical.
For my presentation, I spoke about the New Negro movement of the early twentieth century, of which Trotter was a prominent part. (The New Negroes contrasted themselves with the “old guard” represented by the accommodationist approach of Booker T. Washington.) World War I had a profound effect on New Negroes, who recognized that the reason President Woodrow Wilson gave for U.S. entry into that war should be appropriated. If African Americans were going to France to make the world safe for democracy, shouldn’t America be made safe for the rights and equality of African Americans? In 1919, when white mobs formed in city after city to attack African Americans in the cause of protecting white supremacy, black veterans fought back and provided protection that law enforcement failed to offer. A year of racial violence, the worst in the nation’s history, 1919 was also a year of resilience through armed self-defense against lawless mob attacks.
A discussion moderated by Robert Bellinger, of Suffolk University, gave Peter, Kerri, and myself an opportunity to further explore the connections between our respective topics, thus providing the context and analysis that historic commemorations need. So, too, did the audience’s insightful questions, which further enhanced our consideration of recognition and resilience in African American history.
The best part is that the discussion didn’t end with us. On 19 October, the second panel in the series considered the legacies of 1619, this time through the theme of Afro-Native connections. My disappointment at not being able to attend is tempered by knowing that the MHS will soon post a recording of the panel. I look forward to seeing it!
This week we have a couple of evening programs, a biography seminar, a brown-bag lunch program, and a gallery talk. Here is a look at what is planned:
On Monday, 21 October, at 6:00 PM:Saving America’s Cities: Ed Logue & the Struggle to Renew Urban America in the Suburban Age with Lizabeth Cohen, Harvard University. Edward J. Logue was a giant of 20th-century East Coast urban redevelopment. From the 1950s through the 1980s, he worked to revive a declining New Haven, became the architect of the “New Boston,” led New York State’s Urban Development Corporation, and ended his career working to turn around the South Bronx. Prizewinning historian Lizabeth Cohen analyzes Logue’s complicated legacy in urban renewal as a dramatic story of heart- break and destruction, but also of human idealism and resourcefulness. A pre-talk reception begins at 5:30. There is a $10 per person fee (no charge for MHS Fellows and Members or EBT cardholders).
On Wednesday, 23 October, at 12:00 PM:Towards an Intellectual History of Reconstruction: Ideas about Democracy, Nation, & Race in the era of Reconstruction with Peter Wirzbicki, Princeton University. What were the philosophical and intellectual ideas that Northern Republicans used to justify Reconstruction? This project analyzes the way that the Civil War and Reconstruction reshaped American ideas about democracy, nationalism, and race. Looking at works of political philosophy, popular pamphlets and polemics, and personal writing, this project demonstrates that, in order to justify Reconstruction, Northern thinkers had to remake their ideas about the nature of American sovereignty and what the American nation was. This is part of the Brown-bag lunch program. Brown-bags are free and open to the public.
On Wednesday, 23 October, at 6:00 PM: Queen Victoria: The Making of an Icon with Polly Putnam, Historic Royal Palaces. This talk considers the development of Queen Victoria’s public image over the course of her 63-year reign. Queen Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and later Empress of India, is only second to Queen Elizabeth II as the longest ruling monarch in British history. Queen Victoria ruled from June 20, 1837 until her death on January 22, 1901. Ms. Putnam’s presentation reveals how Queen Victoria made a virtue of and shared her personal life with the people of Great Britain, which ensured not only her popularity but also an enduring public image. The event is co-sponsored by the Algonquin Club Foundation. A reception will follow the presentation at 7:00. There is a $25 per person fee. The event is complimentary for MHS Fund Giving Circle donors and Algonquin Club Foundation members. Registration is required.
On Thursday, 24 October, at 5:15 PM:On the Campaign Trail with Sidney Blumenthal in Conversation in conversation with Megan Marshall. Today it seems you can’t run for president without first putting out a memoir or autobiography. But biographies of presidential candidates – and presidents – are nothing new. Veteran political strategist, Washington insider, and author of the highly acclaimed multi-volume The Political Life of Abraham Lincoln, Sidney Blumenthal, returns to Boston, where he got his start as a journalist, to engage in a wide-ranging discussion of lives in politics—from 1860 to 2020—and the uses of biography and, more recently, autobiography in shaping successful campaigns. This is part of the New England Biography Seminar series. Seminars are free and open to the public.
On Friday, 25 October, at 2:00 PM:Abigail Adams: Life & Legacy Gallery Talk. Join an Adams Papers editor to explore how Abigail Adams has come to hold a unique place within the fabric of American life.
Abigail Adams: Life & Legacy Pop-Up Display Abigail Adams urged her husband to “Remember the Ladies” and made herself impossible to forget. But Abigail is memorable for more than her famous 1776 admonition. This final Remember Abigail display uses documents and artifacts through the ages to consider the way Abigail viewed her own legacy and to explore how and why we continue to Remember Abigail. Join us for gallery talks on 25 October and 22 November at 2:00 PM.
This is a busy week at the MHS. Take a look at what is planned:
On Monday, 14 October, from 10:00 AM to 3:00 PM:Opening Our Doors Celebration. The MHS will join its neighboring cultural institutions for a day of free history, art, music, and cultural happenings in the Fenway neighborhood. With over 20 different museums, venues, colleges, and organizations participating, there will be something for everyone. View Fenway Connections, an exhibition put together by the MHS and the Fenway Studios, take part in a family-friendly art project that is part of our Remember Abigail celebration, and join us for a historic walking tour of the Fenway neighborhood.
On Tuesday, 15 October, at 5:15 PM:“Ladies Aid” as Labor History: Working Class Formation in the Interwar Syrian American Mahjarwith Stacy Fahrenthold, University of California, Davis, and comment by Ilham Khuri-Makdisi, Northeastern University.
Founded in 1917, the Syrian Ladies Aid Society of Boston (SLAS) provided food, shelter, education, and employment to Syrian workers. Volunteers understood the SLAS as both a women’s organization and a proletarian movement led by Syrian women. Drawing from SLAS club records, private family papers, activist correspondence, and the Syrian press, this essay calls attention to the role women played in working class formation in the Arab American diaspora, and argues for a class-centered reassessment of “ladies aid” politics. This is part of the Boston Seminar on the History of Women, Gender, & Sexuality series. It is is co-sponsored by the Boston Seminar on Modern American Society & Culture. Seminars are free and open to the public.
On Wednesday, 16 October, at 12:00 PM:The Last & Living Words of Mark: Following the Clues to the Enslaved Man’s Life, Afterlife, & to his Community in Boston, Charlestown, & South Shore Massachusetts with Catherine Sasanov, Independent Researcher. Mark, a blacksmith, husband, and father, might have slipped from public memory if not for his brutal end: his body gibbeted for decades on Charlestown Common for the poisoning of his enslaver, John Codman. This project, grounded in Mark’s testimony, approaches “legal” and other documents as crime scenes; attention to clues, connections, and seemingly insignificant details unlock important, previously unrecognized aspects of Mark’s world, thwarting their original intent: the enforcement of slavery’s status quo. This is part of the Brown-bag lunch program. Brown-bags are free and open to the public.
On Wednesday, 16 October, at 6:00 PM:Housing as History: Villa Victoria & the Fenway Community Development Corporation with Mario Luis Small, Harvard University; Mathew Thall, Fenway CDC; and Mayra I. Negrón-Roche, Inquilinos Boricuas en Acción. In the 1960s and 1970s Boston struggled to stem urban flight and a landscape of deteriorating housing stock. Massive redevelopment projects, such as the razing of the West End, sent shockwaves through the city. By the mid-1960s, the South End found itself the focus of redevelopment plans. A group of mostly Puerto Rican residents began to meet and then incorporated as the Emergency Tenants’ Council, which became Inquilinos Boricuas en Acción, Inc. (IBA). In 1969, following a widespread campaign, the IBA won the right to serve as the developer for their neighborhood and; using the architecture of Puerto Rico as inspiration, built Villa Victoria. A few years later and few blocks away, the Fenway neighborhood faced the Fenway Urban Renewal Plan (FURP), which planned to clear sections of the neighborhood. local residents sued the city to block FURP and won the right to have a neighborhood-elected board become part of the decision-making process. Out of these efforts came the Fenway CDC with a mission to develop and maintain affordable housing and advocate on behalf of a vibrant and diverse community. This is part two of a series of four programs that is made possible by the generosity of Mass Humanities and the Joint Center for Housing Studies at Harvard University. It will be held at Blackstone Community Center, 50 W. Brookline Street, Boston.A pre-talk reception begins at 5:30 PM; the speaking program begins at 6:00 PM.
On Thursday, 17 October, at 5:15 PM:The World Comes to Lowell: Building a Digital Immigration History Website with Robert Forrant, University of Massachusetts–Lowell, and Ingrid Hess, University of Massachusetts–Lowell. Based at the University of Massachusetts–Lowell, this digital project provides an entry point to the immigrant and refugee history of Lowell with an eye toward greater New England. An interdisciplinary team of faculty and students created the website content and produced the motion graphics to present supporting photographs, maps, and links to additional resources. The site is designed to be a tool for educators and a resource for interested community members. This is part of the Boston-Area Seminar on Digital History Projects series. Seminars are free and open to the public.
On Saturday, 19 October, at 10:00 AM: The History & Collections of the MHS. This is a 90-minute docent-led walk through of our public rooms. The tour is free and open to the public. If you would like to bring a larger party (8 or more), please contact Curator of Art Anne Bentley at 617-646-0508 or abentley@masshist.org.
On Saturday, 19 October, at 4:00 PM: Legacies of 1619: Afro-Native Connections with Christine DeLucia, Williams College; Kendra Field, Tufts University; and moderator Catherine Allgor, MHS. Even before the arrival of enslaved Africans, Native Americans were forced into bondage and transported far from their homes in North America. Even as the Native populations were decimated and displaced, the communities that survived remained a refuge for African Americans. These distinct communities forged familial, social, and cultural bonds with each other over time. This program will explore the complex relationship between African Americans, Native Americans, the institution of slavery, and these groups’ attempts to seek equal rights in American society. This program is part two of a series of four programs co-sponsored by the Museum of African American History and the Roxbury Community College. There will be a pre-talk reception at 3:30.
Abigail Adams: Life & Legacy Pop-Up Display Abigail Adams urged her husband to “Remember the Ladies” and made herself impossible to forget. But Abigail is memorable for more than her famous 1776 admonition. This final Remember Abigail display uses documents and artifacts through the ages to consider the way Abigail viewed her own legacy and to explore how and why we continue to Remember Abigail. Join us for gallery talks on 25 October and 22 November at 2:00 PM.
Fenway Connections, an exhibition by the MHS and the Fenway Studios closes on Saturday, 19 October
The Fenway Studios is the only purpose-built structure in the United States designed to provide work and living space for artists that is still used for its original intent. It was modeled after 19th-century Parisian atelier studios but took the additional step of encouraging studio-design suggestions from the founding artists. This temporary exhibition will celebrate the history and evolution of Fenway Studios by shining a light on contemporary work produced by current members alongside rarely shown paintings from the MHS collection created by past Fenway Studios artists.
People were publicly spreading their political ideologies long before the days of social media. For Sarah Winnemucca, a public presence was a key element of her political agenda. Winnemucca, a Northern Paiute woman and daughter of Chief Winnemucca, holds a complex spot in the history of the United States. In part, she took to the written word, publishing a book titled Life Among Piutes: Their Wrongs and Claims, which is in the Society’s collection. The autobiographical work is a deft account of the history of her family and culture, including the agonies of white settlement. Winnemucca was well connected to contemporaries who were engaged in their own campaigns for change. Most notably, she was connected to Horace Mann, his second wife, Mary Peabody Mann, and her sister and fellow education reformer, Elizabeth Peabody. It is through these connections that she was able to share her struggle with a larger audience.
Elizabeth Peabody’s letter to Dr. Lyman Abbot, Sarah Winnemucca’s practical solution of the Indian problem: a letter to Dr. Lyman Abbot of the ’Christian Union, is more of a booklet for a public audience than a letter—it even includes a postscript that refers to itself as a public document—to get support and funding for a school Winnemucca had started for Paiute children in Nevada. In advocating for Winnemucca’s school, Peabody cites Winnemucca’s Christian faith, private (as opposed to communal) land ownership and the fact that the children were to be taught in English as well as Paiute. Winnemucca’s own writing plays into the American rhetoric of creating our own destiny. In an address quoted by Peabody, Winnemucca tells her peers “It will be your fault if [your children] grow up as you have”, saying that “a few years ago you owned this great country; today the white man owns it all and you own nothing.” She was clear that education was the best path forwards for the Paiute and Peabody’s writing gives us some insight into the type of education she offered at the school. There is a subtle impulse towards educational assimilation in the text: Peabody stated that not funding such a school as Winnemucca’s “prevents civilization” among the Paiute “by insulting that creative self-respect and cautious freedom to act.” Indeed, Winnemucca was an activist who felt that she needed to work within the framework of Euro-American systems. In an “Appeal for justice,” a circular in the MHS broadside collection, she states “My work must be done through Congress.”
At the same time, she willing to communicate the profound, harmful effect the processes of colonization had on her community. In the early 1880s, the Paiutes were struggling to have reservation lands, acknowledged in the 1860s and subsequently sold off, restored to the community. Winnemucca in particular held this battle for the Malheur Reservation close to her heart. In 1883, the year before Life Among Piutes was published she traveled to Boston where she met the Peabody sisters and Horace Mann. The Peabody sisters were the ones who pushed forward the publishing of her book. During her time in the Eastern United States, she gave public lectures discussing the injustices faced by her people. Her circular “Appeal for justice” mentioned above, was another way a garnering support, and to do so she made her public appeal an emotional one.
In the circular she states, “No door has been open to [the Paiute]; on the contrary, every arm has been raised against them” and that their reservation was “taken from us in the usual way.” In two paragraphs, she establishes her emotional appeal, urging people to seek justice with her. She explains that she is acting not on behalf of herself, but for her people and especially her father. Winnemucca makes her eastern audience aware of their power: “will you give my people a home? Not a place for this year, but a home forever? You can do it. Will you?” It is not until the second and much shorter paragraph that she gives information about the cession Malheur Reservation to the Paiute. Here, she informs her public that the reservation lands were sold against the wishes of her community, implying no community members were in a position to push back against the sale of the land. Still, while being more informative here she does not abandon the impassioned language from earlier in the circular. She states, “I want to test the right of the United States government to make and break treaties at pleasure.” She finishes by saying “Talk for me and help me talk, and all will be well.” On January 4, 1884, she went before Congress with a petition for the restoration of the Malhuer Reservation to the Paiute.
Unfortunately, the lands designated as the Malheur reservation would never be reacknowledged by the government as the Malheur reservation. Winnemucca’s declining health and funds prohibited her from keeping her school running, and she passed away in 1891. Though her work in these areas was not fully realized, Winnemucca was able to fashion a public voice that reached an elite and influential circle of Boston, made herself heard by the United States Congress, and translated her experience to be understood by a broad American public. Her legacy today is controversial and her complicated public advocacy resonates with contemporary debates. The questions of identity and representation are some of the most pressing of our time; the rhetoric of who belongs where is a common topic in popular and political media. Reading through Winnemucca’s “Appeal for justice” and Peabody’s letter offers a historical perspective.
Card in the folder with circular letter directing readers to sign and return to Mary Peabody Mann so that Winnemucca could present the signitures to Congress.
All of the excerpts and images in this post were taken from collections held at the MHS. You can visit our library to take a look at the originals.
by Susan Martin, Processing Archivist & EAD Coordinator
Have you ever wondered about the origins of the everyday technological devices that we take for granted today? How far back do these devices go? What did some of their earliest incarnations look like?
The newly processed papers of Charles Francis Adams give us an idea. You may recognize his name, but no, I’m not talking about the ambassador to the U.K. during the Civil War (CFA 1807-1886), the railroad executive and historian (CFA 1835-1915), or the Secretary of the Navy and yachtsman (CFA 1866-1954). He was, however, a member of the same illustrious family and a direct descendant of Presidents John and John Quincy Adams.
Our Charles Francis Adams (1910-1999) was, among other things, a Navy veteran, vice president of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and executive at Raytheon for many years. It’s this last role I’d like to highlight in this post. Raytheon, founded in 1922, has been headquartered in Cambridge, Newton, Lexington, and Waltham, Mass. Between 1947 and 1975, Adams served alternately as vice president, president, and chairman of the company.
Adams’ papers include 15 scrapbooks of newspaper clippings, photographs, and ephemera going back to 1920 that document much of the history of Raytheon. Adams’ tenure coincided with a period of explosive technological innovation, and while the company has become one of the country’s foremost military contractors, it was also involved in the development of a variety of commercial technological gadgets and home appliances in the post-World War II years. I want to focus on three devices: the microwave oven, the television, and the walkie-talkie.
On 20 May 1947, the Hotel Statler in Boston (now the Park Plaza Hotel) debuted a new appliance manufactured by Raytheon—the “Radarange.” It was about five feet high, stainless steel, and used a magnetron tube for cooking meals in a matter of seconds. That evening, an entire meal was prepared with this “radar cooking,” including “radar coffee.” According to a Boston Post article published the following day, “The Hotel Statler made epicurean history last night. […] It was the first time this has been done anywhere.”
Menu for “the first radar dinner,” Hotel Statler, 20 May 1947
The scrapbooks include some fun promotional photographs featuring the Radarange at the Statler and other Massachusetts locations, like the Aero Snack Bar, a lunch counter at the Norwood airport; White Tower Restaurant in Brookline Village; and United Farmers Dairy Store in Dorchester.
Statler kitchen with two Radaranges, taken by Avalon Studios, 1947 (Photo. #343.07)Aero Snack Bar with a Radarange, taken by Avalon Studios, 1947 (Photo. #343.08)
One article estimates that there were about 75 Radarange units in operation by early 1948, mostly in hotels and restaurants. The appliances were not sold, but leased to customers for $150 a month. They were also intended for trains, ships, and even planes. Radaranges were not ready for everyday home use yet—for one thing, they were too expensive to make and to service—but Adams saw the potential in the domestic market, and by the mid-1950s, the company was developing a smaller model for direct sale.
The chairman of the board of Hotels Statler Co., quoted in a press release, said that the Radarange “has a definite place in the preparation of quality food in quantity production. The cooking is not only fast, it is clean—there is no grease, smoke or odor. Our chefs, furthermore, are delighted because ‘Radarange’ produces no external heat, making the kitchen a more comfortable place in which to work.”
What was the public’s reaction to this new-fangled contraption? Tide magazine, a publication covering advertising, marketing, and public relations news, said the Radarange was the “most intriguing” of Raytheon’s new products (30 Jan. 1948). A reviewer, early the following year, called it a “spooky invention,” but was otherwise positive about it. Christian Science Monitor summed it up this way: “At first there was some opposition to radar ranges because of the revolutionary changes in cooking methods implicit in them. Some cooks were impatient of the new techniques and others expected too much” (1 Apr. 1954).
I, for one, love the idea of diners at a high-end restaurant ordering a microwave meal. In fact, the Statler reserved a special section on its daily menu for food prepared via Radarange.
Lobster in 2 ½ minutes, Hotel Statler, 15 May 1947
Television, on the other hand, had been around for a little while before Raytheon got in on the game. The company’s foray into the TV market wouldn’t last, but in the late 1940s, Raytheon and its subsidiary Belmont Radio Corporation were hyping their new model with features like a clearer picture, static-free sound, and a “snap-action station selector” (the channel dial, I assume). Prices of televisions advertised in Adams’ scrapbooks ranged from $200-$750. A store in Boston called the House of Television was selling a set that came in a mahogany cabinet with a AM/FM radio and a record player. It also boasted a “giant” circular screen…about 8.8 inches in diameter.
Advertisement for the Raytheon Belmont TV, 1949
Last but definitely not least, I stumbled across these terrific clippings from the Quincy Patriot Ledger and the Boston Globe dated 4 Feb. 1952.They showcase Raytheon’s new “handie-talkie” radio, “the lightest and most compact hand radio receiver-transmitter ever developed,” weighing in at a mere 6 ½ pounds and larger than a woman’s head.
Clippings promoting the new “handie-talkie,” 4 Feb. 1952
This radio, officially named the AN/PRC-6, was already proving useful to American troops in Korea. It could be submerged in water and withstand extreme temperatures, had a greater range and far more available frequencies than the previous version, and the 3 ½-pound battery lasted about 100 hours. As for its size, well, it was definitely an improvement over the 11-pound World War II “handie-talkie.” One writer astutely observed that this model was part of “the continuing miniaturization of communications equipment.” Imagine what they’d say about today’s hand-held devices.
All of the excerpts and images in this post were taken from the Charles Francis Adams scrapbooks here at the MHS. Click on any of the images above to see them larger. Or better yet, visit our library and take a look at the originals.
