The Pressure of Light

Ever think that you can feel the sun's rays beating down? While that impression may be illusory, visible light and all forms of electromagnetic radiation actually do exert pressure on a surface.

First predicted by James Maxwell in 1871, experimental evidence for the phenomenon wasn't produced until the turn of the century. The Russian physicist Peter Lebedev was the first to measure this radiation pressure and announced his findings in 1900 at a conference in Paris. The measurement was independently confirmed by two Dartmouth researchers in 1901 - Gordon Ferrie Hull and Ernest Fox Nichols (later President of the College, 1909-1916). Pictured here is the apparatus used by Hull and Nichols in their experiment, including the Nichols radiometer, which is now in the Smithsonian.

Hull and Nichols were apparently unaware of Lebedev's findings until after their discovery which they first published in an article titled "A Preliminary Communication on the Pressure of Heat and Light Radiation" in the November 1901 issue of The Physical Review (conclusive evidence was published in The Physical Review in July of 1903).  In a later article in The Astrophysical Journal, they wrote that "Unfortunately the proceedings of the Paris Congress did not reach the writers, nor any intimation of the methods or results of Professor Lebedew's work, until after the publication of their own preliminary experiments."

Left to Right: E.F. Nichols, J.A. Brown, G.F. Hull, 1903

Rauner holds Gordon Ferrie Hull's papers which include correspondence, photographs and other material about his work with Nichols on radiation pressure, as well as Hull's later work in ballistics during World War I. In addition there is correspondence between Hull and various scientific notables, including Ernest Rutherford, George Hale, and Robert Milliken.

To read more about radiation pressure, ask for the Hull Papers (ML-47).  A guide to the collection is available.

Stefansson's Son

Alex Stefansson

In 1908, arctic explorer Vilhjalmur Stefansson set out on his second expedition. He hired an Inuit woman named Fanny Pannigabluk to travel with him. On March 10, 1910, Pannigabluk gave birth to a boy. Alex Stefansson was never acknowledged by Stefansson as his son, however, people of the arctic community who knew about the relationship between Stefansson and Pannigabluk, never doubted Alex's paternity.

Stefansson remained in the arctic until 1912 living with his Inuit family. He returned to them once more during his 1913-1918 expedition. During Stefansson's lifetime the paternity question remained a rumor. However, after his death in 1962, it garnered attention once again. Stefansson's wife Evelyn, a notable author of arctic books in her own right, who had married Stefansson in 1940s, felt it was "regrettable that only a few months after Stef's death a matter based on hearsay rather than evidence should be brought up for the first time." According to her "Stef did not believe that Alex Stefansson was his son."

Vilhjalmur Stefansson

Frank Stefansson

Based on photographic evidence and intensive research gathered since his death, Alex Stefansson's paternity is no longer questioned by Stefansson scholars. For Evelyn the revelation came in 1976, when in response to a picture of Alex Stefansson's son Frank she wrote: "The picture of Frank Stefansson is stunning evidence to me that Alex was Stef's son. For the first time a feeling of conviction arrived. It is the set of the mouth and the tip of the nose, the dimpled chin, and the shape of the head,--the family resemblance is inescapable and is so much stronger in the grandson than the son, strangely enough."

To read the correspondence or learn more about Evelyn Stefansson Nef's life and work as an author and philanthropist ask for Stef MSS-99.

Exquisite Corpuscle

What started as a Surrealist parlor game, the exquisite corpse has become a favored medium for book artists. Originally the concept was a word game: lists of words sorted into their parts of speech could be assembled and reassembled to create surprising new meanings, confusion, and profundity. With the Surrealists, the idea became visual and the codex was the ideal format to build bodies and shapes.

U.B.3 (Ultra Bio 3) is an exquisite corpse that features eight interchangeable lithographic images by David Lantow. While the corpse has a head, body and feet, it looks a little like a germ, a fungus, or even an alien. But in the wake of Deepwater Horizon, it evokes memories of  tar balls washing ashore in the Gulf of Mexico and crude oil clinging to dying wildlife. The text morphs from "This Quiet Fellow"  to finally rest at "Our Global Addiction." Along the way there are an additional 510 possible combinations, some serene like "Sweet Velvet Situation," some more sinister like "Tricky Plastic Monster."  Of course, if you want, you can have a "Sweet Plastic Addiction" or a "Tricky Velvet Fellow."

Come enjoy the game by asking for David Lantrow's U.B.3.

Budd Schulberg, Class of 1936

"I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am…" proclaims Marlon Brando as Terry Malloy, the protagonist of Budd Schulberg's Academy Award winning screenplay On the Waterfront. However, director Elia Kazan originally was "not insane about Brando." In a letter to Schulberg he states that, "in my opinion he is quite wrong." A sentiment he repeated to Brando in an undated letter.

Schulberg, a boxing aficionado, was born into a famous Hollywood family in 1914. "I am known, alternately as the son of B. P. Schulberg, the producer, the brother of Sonya Schulberg, the young novelist and the son of Mrs. Ad Schulberg, the European agent," he once said early on in his career. However, by the time he died in 2009 at the age of 95, he had left his own mark on the literary and show business world.

Budd Schulberg published his first novel in 1941, What Makes Sammy Run?, against the advice of his father. B. P. Schulberg worried that his son’s scathing fictionalized account of a ruthless social climber in Hollywood hit too close to home. The book was a success, but after its publication Schulberg was promptly fired by Sam Goldwyn.

During WWII Schulberg served with the Office of Strategic Services and was attached to John Ford’s film unit. The unit was in charge of collecting and recording film for a documentary about Nazi atrocities for the Nuremberg trials. Needing to identify prominent Nazis in the films, Schulberg was assigned to pick up Hitler's documentary filmmaker Leni Reifenstahl.

Schulberg at the Watts Writer's Workshop

After the war Schulberg returned to Hollywood where he continued to be a diverse author of short stories, articles, fiction and nonfiction books, as well as a writer of teleplays and screenplays. In 1965 he co-founded the Watts Writer's Workshop, in response to the devastation he had seen left behind after the infamous riots in Los Angeles. With branches from Long Beach to San Francisco, the workshops provided a springboard for the Frederick Douglas Creative Arts Center in New York City, which is still active today.

To learn more about Budd Schulberg's life, career and his writing process ask for MS-978.  A finding aid for the collection is available.

Dartmouth Hall

Dartmouth Hall was built between 1784 and 1792 to replace College Hall, which had fallen into disrepair. The process took so long because of problems with funding. The final building was somewhat smaller than that envisioned by Eleazar Wheelock, though it was still a massive building for its day. The final structure stood 175 feet long by 52 feet deep. As Scott Meacham notes in his book Dartmouth College: An Architectural Tour, Dartmouth Hall was the College. It served as dormitory, classroom, library and museum. Later, in 1829, a chapel was also added. In addition, it also served as a place to hide the townspeople’s cows, a form of protest devised by the students who did not like having them pastured on the Green. In 1895 the architects Lamb & Rich added electric lights and steam heat, though this proved to be the building's undoing.

In February 1904, Dartmouth Hall burned to the ground in a matter of minutes. The cause of the fire was found to be faulty wiring. The building was rebuilt with gifts from alumni. The final cost of the reconstruction was about $100,000. One request for donations distributed by Dartmouth Trustee Melvin O. Adams '71 states, "This is not an invitation, it is a summons." Adams' letter gives a sense of the importance the alumni attached to Dartmouth Hall. By October of the same year, the cornerstone for the new building was laid. William Legge, the sixth Earl of Dartmouth, a descendant of the British nobleman for whom the College is named, came to the campus for Dartmouth Night to participate in the ceremony. The new Dartmouth Hall was built as a replica of the original building, though it differs in some significant ways. The exterior is brick instead of clapboard, the building was enlarged slightly and some architectural details were changed. The rebuilding of Dartmouth Hall took two years and it was not until 1906 that it was open and ready for use.

In 1935, the upper floors of Dartmouth Hall caught fire again. Since the insurance company paid $79,000 for the cost of the damage, the Board of Trustees decided to gut the entire building and make it 100% fireproof, a process that required the application of steel and concrete to reinforce the interior of the building. In the end the fireproofing cost the college another $200,000. The funds not covered by the insurance came from alumni donations.

Today, Dartmouth Hall serves as an academic building as well as an icon of the College's early years.

Ask for the following Vertical Files to learn more: Dartmouth Hall Fires and Rebuilding; Dartmouth Hall (Old); Dartmouth Hall Bells; and Dartmouth Hall Clock.

And these Photo Files for images: Dartmouth Hall 1, 2, 3 and 4; Dartmouth Hall Fire (1904) and Reconstruction 1 and 2; Dartmouth Hall Fire (1935) and Reconstruction; Dartmouth Hall Interior; Dartmouth Hall Laying Of Cornerstone; Dartmouth Hall (Old) 1, 2, 3 and 4; Dartmouth Hall Opening (February 17, 1908).

The Story of a Puppet

The story of Pinocchio is one that is familiar to many people, in part, thanks to the 1940 Disney film. But even before Disney, The Story of a Puppet, or the Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi was an international success.

First published in serial form by Collodi (whose real name was Carlo Lorenzini) in Italian from July 1881 to January 1883, the book was not originally intended for children. In its first form, Pinocchio died by hanging at the end of 15 chapters. Collodi’s editor urged the author to change the ending, resulting in chapters 16-36 in which the Fairy with the Turquoise Hair rescues Pinocchio, resulting in an ending more suitable for children.

The story first appeared in book form in 1883 and quickly became a best seller. Unfortunately, Collodi died in 1890 and did not get to see his story become an international success. Here is a recently acquired first English edition of the book. As with many children’s books, first editions, particularly first printings as this is (indicated by the title and illustrated half title printed in black and red), tend not to survive their early owners, making them particularly rare.

This edition of Pinocchio will be joining several other copies already in our collection and will provide an interesting contrast to later interpretations. Pinocchio tells the story of a marionette who wishes to be a real boy. Populated with fairies, talking crickets and other fantastical creatures, this book is another of the many “secret gardens” created by early children’s authors.

The book is on display in the Rauner Reading room right now, but you can always see it by asking for Rare PQ4712.L4 A713 1892.

Cultivating Secret Gardens

Which did you like better, the book or the movie? Whatever your preference, you probably assume that film adaptations of books have some authorized relationship to the original version of the story. But this wasn’t always the case.

Nowadays it is astonishing to think that writers would not have the rights to control how their creative work is adapted. Many bestselling authors routinely negotiate the film rights to their novels before they are published. Copyright law is firmly in favor of authors retaining the rights to their creations, and Congress has repeatedly extended copyright protection (in the United States, it is currently the life of the author plus seventy years for most works) every time it has come up for renewal in recent decades.

The contemporary protection of international copyright in this sense is only about a century old. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of The Secret Garden (1911), was instrumental in advocating for authors’ rights to retain control of how their novels and characters are adapted. Her bestselling novel Little Lord Fauntleroy (1886), while protected at the time in the United States, was adapted into a play in London without her permission. Burnett was angered by this unauthorized use, and successfully sued to retain control of her creation. The lawsuit set a precedent that led to stronger laws protecting creative works from piracy and unlicensed adaptation. So nowadays, when you see a movie or a play that’s been adapted from a novel, trust that the original author had some say in how the work was presented – thanks in part to Frances Hodgson Burnett.

“Cultivating Secret Gardens: Frances Hodgson Burnett and Children’s Fiction” was curated by Laura Braunstein and Jay Satterfield and will be on display in the class of 1965 Galleries until August 31, 2011.

The exhibition is mounted in conjunction with “100 Years of The Secret Garden: A Centenary Conference,” July 29-30, 2011, at Dartmouth College. For more information, go to The Leslie Center for the Humanities event site.