By Hannah Elder, Assistant Reference Librarian for Rights & Reproductions 

Let’s face it: the MHS has a lot of cool stuff. As the assistant reference librarian for rights and reproductions, I get to see some of that stuff as I pull it for researchers in the reading room and further afield. When something catches my eye, I get out my phone and take a photo of it to share with friends, family, and my fellow librarians. As the year comes to a close, I was reflecting on some of those photos and wanted to share them with you. Here is a compilation of some of the wonderful collection items I saw this year.

January: Binney family mourning bracelet

This bracelet was made ca. 1847 to commemorate Amos Binney and his mother, Hannah, who both died on 18 February 1847, but on opposite sides of the Atlantic. The central chamber holds a miniature portrait of Amos and a lock of hair that may have been Hannah’s.

February: Tide chart for Boston from the 3 June 1763 edition of the Boston Evening-Post

Having grown up on the coast, I was delighted to see this tide chart for a week in the summer of 1763. It’s also interesting to note the times for sunrise and sunset. Since we as a society did not yet practice daylight savings, the times for both sunrise and sunset are much earlier than we are used to.

March: Baby’s first photograph in Henry P. Binney’s baby book

I found this baby book while including Binney’s 1922 diary from my March blog post and was immediately enchanted by it. Other pages included descriptions of baby’s first outing, clippings from his first haircut, and other photos of Henry’s first years of life. The love of his parents is evident on every page.

April: inventory of chairs from Elizabeth R. Child’s estate

I found this list while working on a reproduction order and was struck by the number of chairs in a single house. I think my favorite is the old rocking chair.

May: Printing plate for The Congress voting independence

When I pulled this plate for a researcher in the reading room I thought it looked familiar, and for good reason: the print hangs in the library! Having both the printing plate and the final print feels special and is a great opportunity to learn more about printing history.

June: a scrap of paper from the Coolidge Collection of Thomas Jefferson Manuscripts

 I found this scrap of paper while searching for an inventory in the Jefferson papers. It is simply labeled “strip of paper w/ numbers” and is undated. I’m not sure why this scrap remained with the collection, but I’m glad it did!

July: The Irish in America by Carl Wittke

One of our printed resources, I found this in the stacks and photographed it to share with a friend.

August: Fred’s Breeches

Another item requested by a researcher, this charcoal, chalk, and crayon drawing amused all of the library staff.

September: The Castorland Journal

This journal, written in French by Simon Desjardins, describes the journey of the New York Company, a group of French emigrants who settled in New York in 1797. This page is a part of the topographical survey of the land.

October: Voltaire’s An essay on universal history

This set of volumes caught my eye in the stacks one day. I appreciate their various conditions, and the places you can see where volumes one and two would have matched volume three.

November: recipe for Thanksgiving Pudding from the Frances A. Frothingham recipe book

Thinking back to my gingerbread blog post from last year, I decided to check out some other cookbooks in the collection. Many pages in the cookbook were covered in splatters like the ones on this page. I love the signs of use and hope that Frances and her loved ones enjoyed many Thanksgiving puddings.

December: Edgecomb (Maine) tax list, 1795-1796

My family came to visit the library a couple of weeks ago, so I pulled one of the items in the collection related to our home town. We had fun looking for names that we recognized, from local landmarks and from local families. For instance, Moses Davis is the namesake for Davis Island in Edgecomb.

I hope you enjoyed this look back with me! If you want to see any of these items, or any other items from the collection, come visit us in the library in the new year!

By Susanna Sigler, MHS Library Assistant

In a blog post last week, we met Robert E. Siegel, a young man from the Boston area who was killed in combat during WWII. In this post, we’ll take a closer look at the words of condolence from the Siegels’ many friends, family members, and colleagues, as well as those who knew Robert.

As a couple with wide personal and professional circles, there are letters in the collection from noted attorneys, politicians, and artists. Several, I would discover in my research, have Wikipedia pages, such as lawyer and activist Alfred Baker Lewis, minister John Haynes Holmes, and De Hirsh Margules, artist and husband of Hannah’s sister Blanche. But beyond these names, what pervades here is grief, the helplessness that anyone would feel trying to write to friends who have lost their only child and were unable to bury him. One gets the sense from these letters that the Siegels are people who often help others but do not often in return ask for people to lean on. Their friends are more than willing to offer that support.  

Beside this grief rests the impression that Robert made on those who knew him. There are letters from young neighborhood friends of Robert’s and family friends who knew Robert since he was an infant. There is a short correspondence between Hannah and Bernice, accompanied by photographs of Robert and Bernice together, looking every bit the teenagers that they were.

One of the most affecting notes, in a collection full of them, is from Guy Sabaté, a French pen pal of Robert’s. It seems like Robert had spent some time in France when he was younger, and had been writing to Guy since before the war.

Now liberated from German occupation, Guy says that they can now write freely. “I spoke to USA boys,” he writes, speaking of American soldiers, “and we understand together too well.” He says he hopes this letter will reach Robert.

Perhaps most heartbreaking is the letter from Benjamin Siegel to his wife, in which he talks about his own memories of the end of WWI and his hope that someday they may adopt a child. It was at this point, dear readers, that I was fully crying in the reading room.

In working with this collection, I find myself feeling that I am intruding on a family in their most private moments. But I see too that Hannah London so deeply wanted her son remembered that she carefully assembled these scrapbooks and gave them to the Society for care and preservation. I feel very privileged to be a part of that in this small way.  

The Robert E. Siegel Papers can be viewed at the Massachusetts Historical Society.

Robert’s letters and the papers of Hannah Ruth London are located at the American Jewish Historical Society in Manhattan.

By Susanna Sigler, MHS Library Assistant

As part of an ongoing project to investigate WWI- and WWII-related materials at the MHS, I want to spotlight a collection that has stuck with me since I started here over the summer. This collection, or rather group of collections, consists of two scrapbooks, a box of photographs, and a case of medals belonging to Private First Class Robert E. Siegel. The scrapbooks were compiled by his mother, and the materials given to the Society after WWII.

Private First Class Robert E. (“Bud”) Siegel grew up in Brookline, Mass., as the son of art scholar Hannah Ruth London and attorney Benjamin M. Siegel. Eventually the family moved to 50 Fenway, only a two-minute walk from the MHS according to Google Maps. His family spent summers in Gloucester, where he was a member of the Gloucester School of the Little Theatre, as well as the Ogunquit Playhouse. Before he was drafted in 1943, he was working as an assistant stage manager at the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge.

In a letter home, he expresses doubt about his looming commitment to the Army, and regret about leaving the friends he’s made. His humor shines through on the page, as well as the close relationship he has with his parents.

Only after a while of looking at these materials did I realize that the letters, at least the ones that are not handwritten, seem to have been typed by Hannah from her son’s originals.

There are a few more letters from Robert, in which he talks about the training at Camp Hood in Texas, his buddies, the variable weather, and his sweetheart Bernice (“Bunny”), a violinist who he meets at a Jewish Welfare Board event in Waco. “Pardon me if I rave about her a little,” he writes, and it’s impossible not to smile as he launches into a listing of her positive qualities, including being “a swell dresser,” “loads of fun,” and “will see a movie twice if I haven’t seen it.” 

Turning these pages, it is also impossible to ignore why these materials were sent to the Society by Hannah London in the first place. More than dispatches from her son, more than summer snapshots, are the letters and notes from her and her husband’s colleagues, friends, and family.

Overseas only two and half months with the infantry, in the taking of a small town near France’s border with Germany, Robert Siegel was gunned down by a German sniper. He was 19 years old.

As his death occurred before the war ended, it was hard for his family to get further information. Fellow soldier Ivan Ragle later writes to Hannah with more details, including that Robert had acted as lead scout, saving the lives of the soldiers following behind him. He said that he’d finally decided to write after talking to his wife about Robert’s death, and attaches a photo of himself in uniform, standing in a garden. The photo in his obituary, from 2009, is of a gentleman decades older but with unmistakably the same face. This was one of multiple times while investigating this collection that I found myself with tears in my eyes.

Jim Balasz, tasked with the job of writing the families of the soldiers killed, had an ongoing correspondence with Hannah. He tells her that he believes Robert deserved the Bronze Star for his actions, but notes that an officer would also have had to witness a soldier’s achievements in order to get paperwork in motion. He apologizes to Mrs. Siegel, citing Army red tape, and says he will try and visit them someday if possible.

Hannah London later cites Balasz in letters to the U.S. Army Administration Center, attempting to have her son awarded the Bronze Star for his actions. Hannah and Benjamin campaigned for decades after the war. When the army does send along his medals, she is informed that he is receiving the Bronze Star not for his specific actions but based upon his prior receival of the Combat Infantryman Badge, essentially a widening of the criteria. It is a terse exchange, and one that does not feel entirely resolved, even though the star rests in a case at the MHS with his other medals.

Keep an eye out for the next installment, where we’ll have a closer look at more letters and notes that make up the rest of the scrapbooks.

The Robert E. Siegel Papers can be viewed at the Massachusetts Historical Society.

Robert’s letters and the papers of Hannah Ruth London are located at the American Jewish Historical Society in Manhattan.

By Susan Martin, Senior Processing Archivist

In my last post, I introduced you to Amy Lee (later Colt), whose diary/commonplace-book forms part of the Joseph Lee papers here at the MHS. The volume gives us a peek into the life of an exuberant teenager a century ago, including her crushes. But there’s more to it than that. Amy wrote from about 1918 to 1925, and we’re privy to her innermost thoughts during some major life changes.

First let’s pick up where we left off. The “devilishly handsome” Elliot Stoddard got married in 1920, but Amy’s disappointment was short-lived. She was soon describing other young men, including an unnamed “queer, whimsical, moody, genius” who was “delightfully rude and grumpy with people he dislikes”; Tad with the “beautiful soul,” whose feelings Amy apparently didn’t reciprocate; and Phil, of whom she wrote, “I do not understand my feelings to-ward Phil. I only know that if he is not at a party the party is uninteresting.”

The most serious contender for Amy’s heart during this time was Charlie Balche, “the most adorable, lovable, utterly irresistable & (irrepressable) mischievous little boy that ever stole jam out of a pantry.” Unfortunately, Charlie was as good as engaged to a young woman named “Char,” probably short for Charlotte. This didn’t stop Amy from going to the movies with him.

The sleeve of his coat just rubbed the edge of my arm (and oh how I wished I could hold his hand)[.] We talked a good [d]eal through it but I couldn’t be very intelligent as I was trying to figure how I could stare at him without him seeing me.

Charlie let Amy drive his car home, but she was so distracted that she “nearly killed about 15 people.” Recognizing her feelings for what they were, she pleaded, “I wish he’d hurry up & get engaged to Char before I break my heart.”

Amy was also interested, both romantically and intellectually, in someone named William Fitzgerald.

He stirred my mind more than it has ever been stirred before[.] He challenged my ideals and beliefs[.] He made me want to think through to the end of my beliefs. He’se been kicked out of most colleges, fought in the war at the age of sixteen! and now writes short stories to support himself. He is a clever talker. He is shockingly frank on society[’s] forbidden subjects. I don’t like the look in his eyes but I daresay its just that he takes no pains to conceal what every boy feels. He is so interesting, callous and provocative after these Babes in Arms. He claims that we are still animals and were created by some one with an ironic sense of humour. He says there is no such thing as love. […] Poor darling, I wonder what made him so bitter right through.

Another person that fascinated Amy was her friend Janet Wilson, who gets what I think may be the best description in the entire volume.

People do more than love her, they are possessed by her – nothing is amusing if she is not there to laugh at it. […] For myself – I can’t imagine being without her – she influences my spirits more than anyone I’ve ever known – at present I’m about to cry because she wasn’t smiling tonight […] I love every bit of her – keep her safe. Janet my darling baby you adoreable nonsensical cuckoo. She has dimpled knees, loves doodads, takes a cold bath every morning and walks with her head thrown back. Some cookie. If I were a millionaire I’de b[u]y her a library and perfume cabinet.

“Charlie Balche” may have been Charles Bowditch Balch (1896-1959) of Jamaica Plain, Mass. If so, records indicate he never married. I also found some William Fitzgeralds and Janet Wilsons, but the names were common, and I have no other clues to confirm their identities. But Amy described them so well, I feel I know them a little.

Amy had opinions on a variety of general subjects, too. Some of the pages of her diary include headings like “My Religion,” “What I want to be,” or “Happiness.” Here’s one remark that’s timeless: “I wish in books the heroes ever liked a heroine for anything but her looks – it discourages me – too bad.” Another favorite passage of mine comes under the heading “If I ran society.”

People shouldn’t keep track of their years & shouldn’t pay any attention to old age. The saying [“]I’m to[o] old for this” is all nonsense. People are just as enthusiastic at eighty as they are at ten. It’s all nonsense – stuff and nonsens[e]. I’m going to wait till I get [to] a satisfactory age and stay there.

In the fall of 1920, her mother Margaret fell seriously ill, and Amy’s tone naturally became more somber. She composed poems dedicated to her mother and prayers for her recovery. Unfortunately, Margaret Lee died on 27 November 1920 at the age of 54. Amy wrote, “Mother has died, but I feel as if she were still here.” And after a few pages of memories of Margaret, she finished with: “Love is the law of the world – nothing else matters.”

The main thing I take away from Amy’s diary is her relatability. She wasn’t perfect. Some entries reflect the outdated opinions of her time or reference unspecified lies and selfish actions she committed and regretted. But while some historical people feel remote, Amy seems to me “as if she were still here.”

In my next post, I’ll finish up the story of Amy Lee Colt. Stay tuned!

by Rakashi Chand, Reading Room Supervisor

Every year there is a grand tree lighting celebration on Boston Common. While exciting and fun, it is the tree itself that embodies kindness and unity. The tree is donated by the people of Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada to the people of Boston, Massachusetts, USA as a token of gratitude for the rescue mission that went into effect on the day of the Halifax Explosion.

An unimaginable tragedy occurred on the morning of 6 December 1917 when two ships, the Imo and Mt. Blanc collided in Halifax Harbor. The Mt. Blanc was laden with thousands of pounds of highly explosive munitions including picric acid. The ship exploded with a blinding light, sending a shockwave throughout the city that shattered windows 50 miles away. The ship dissolved to molten fragments leaving a horrific wake of disaster. Almost 1,800 people were killed and an estimated 9,000 people were injured in the explosion. Northern Halifax had been flattened and buildings across the city were collapsing or on fire. The explosion caused a tsunami that further devastated the port, city, and bay.  

An hour later after the explosion, news of it reached Boston by telegraph. By 11:00 AM, Governor Samuel McCall wired the reply “Massachusetts stands ready to go the limit in rendering every assistance you may be in need of.” While many of Boston’s trained medical and emergency personnel were in Europe as part of WWI, the first relief train full of medical personnel and supplies left Boston for Halifax that night. 

“At ten o’clock that night the relief train left Boston, carrying the surgeons from the State Guard, and nurses, medical and other supplies and food, all under charge of Mr. A. C. Ratshesky, and accompanied by Mr. John F. Moors in charge of the Red Cross contingent.” (1) 

A blizzard paralyzed the relief train as it struggled to get to Halifax, but they persevered and immediately wired to send more supplies.  

“The relief party which left Boston Dec. 6 arrived at Halifax the morning of Dec. 8, having experienced great difficulties from snow blockades, for one of the severest storms of the winter was encountered. Here they found the streets obstructed with debris and snow, and that theirs was the first medical relief party to arrive. It contained 10 surgeons from the Massachusetts State Guard, 10 nurses, 2 members of the state QMC, and members of the Massachusetts Red Cross.” (“Halifax Relief Expedition.” (1) 

As soon as the train arrived in Halifax, they set up a base camp and hospital. 

The Massachusetts Historical Society holds the diaries of several Massachusetts citizens who noted the Halifax Explosion in 1917.  

Funds were raised by a popular subscription, people across Massachusetts contributed and gathered clothing and other necessities.  A public Meeting was held at Faneuil Hall and recorded by Robert James Streeter, a history teacher, who attended the meeting. 

Saturday Dec. 8 1917 

“Went into Boston at 11:00 and attended a mass meeting at Faneuil Hall to hear Gov. McCall, Mayor Curley, Henry B. Endicott, ch. of com. of Public Safety and two other men, speak on the Halifax disaster, & tell what has been done in way of relief. Boston & Mass stand ready to do everything possible.” 

Henry Adams, the son of Charles Francis Adams, Jr., worked in the financial heart of Boston. He recorded the news and impacts of the Halifax Explosion on two consecutive days. On 7 December, he wrote:

Friday, December 7, 1917 

“Halifax explosion is a disaster. 2,000 dead. Town almost wiped out. Munition ship Imo Mt. Blanc rammed by Imo caught fire from a deck load of benzene and blew up in 17 minutes. Much of her cargo was T. N. T. The most powerful ex-plosive known.”  

Georgina Lowell, whose diaries make up part of the Francis Cabot Lowell (1803-1874) Papers,  records reading about the explosion in her diary: 

Friday, December 7, 1917 

“Read of Terrible disaster in Halifax, N.S. caused by explosion of munition ship in harbor- report 2000 killed and large sections of city levelled.” 

The efforts to aid Halifax continued well into the next year. While relief came from across Canada and the northern United States, the first responders from Boston will always be remembered.  Each year, the people of Halifax choose a special tree to send to Boston as a special token of the bond between the two cities. The tree on Boston Common is a quiet testament to the both the strength and kindness of humanity, and in my mind, a testament of the true Spirit of the Holidays. 

1. In: Commission on Massachusetts’ Part in the World War. Report of the Commission on Massachusetts’ Part in the World War. Compiled and edited by Eben Putnam. Boston: Published by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, 1931. Vol. 1, 53-54.) 

For further reading, please visit Nova Scotia Archives the 1917 Halifax Explosion Nova Scotia Archives – 1917 Halifax Explosion 

For further reading on Henry Adams diary notes on the Halifax Explosion, please see our December 2017 Object of the Month.