On March 2, the National Education Association is celebrating the birthday of Ted Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss. On that day, schools around the country will have guests coming in to read Seuss stories and some lucky students will lunch on green eggs and ham. Here at Rauner, you can reflect on the good doctor's beginnings. Geisel '25 honed his craft writing for the campus lampoon magazine, The Jack-O-Lantern and adopted his nom de plume after he was caught on campus with alcohol during Prohibition. Unfortunately, most of the humor in the Jack-O was written for college-age men in the 1920s and is not particularly suitable for elementary school students. But, here are two of his milder cartoons for your enjoyment on Dr. Seuss Day.
Better known as ant farms, these transparent devices were introduced to the general public by Frank Austin in 1929 and patented in June, 1931. Austin, Dartmouth class of 1895, was an inventor and developed wide variety of gadgets and toys as part of his "Austin Workshop" for children. The ant farms proved to be wildly popular. During the peak of the ant farm craze in the 1930s, Austin and his staff shipped more than 400 ant houses per day from his workshop in Hanover, NH. In addition to ant farms, Austin also designed and built cricket houses, observational bee hives, and butterfly-rearing kits.
Despite the success of the ant farm and his other "housing" projects, it might be argued that Austin's most influential work was his involvement in the field of medical imaging. In 1896, Austin, together with Professor Edwin Frost and Dr. Gilman Frost took the first American x-ray photograph of the human body when they imaged the wrist of Eddie McCarthy who had fallen while ice skating.
Eddie McCarthy's wrist
Eddie McCarthy being x-rayed
Austin's papers contain images, business correspondence, bills of sales and receipts related to "The Austin Workshop" as well as materials on his various inventions. The collection also contains several of Austin's short writings: "The Autobiography of Sir Lancelot by Himself," "Honey Bee," "Bumble Bees," "The Ants of King Solomon," "The Lazy Males of Antville," and other ant related pieces.
We recently complemented our outstanding collection of Kelmscott Press books with this simple publication annotated by William Morris and E. Belfort Bax. Unlike Morris's lavish Kelmscott productions, The Manifestoof the Socialist League (London: Socialist League Office, 1885) was designed and priced at a penny to reach the masses. For his Kelmscott Press books, Morris designed his own types, had them hand cut and cast, secured woodcut illustrations from people like Edward Burne-Jones, executed his own decorative borders, and printed it all on beautiful handmade paper. His books were critiques of modern industrialization and homages to an idealized past where workers were craftsmen closely connected to the fruits of their labors.
Physically, the pamphlet is a jarring contrast to the Kelmscott edition of The Works of Geoffrey Chaucer (Hammersmith: Kelmscott Press, 1893), but even more so when you see the receipt. Our copy of the Kelmscott Chaucer was originally purchased by C. F. Richardson, a member of the Dartmouth English department. The 1897 receipt shows that Richardson paid $160 for the text block, then an additional $104 for the deluxe binding produced at the Doves Bindery. Adjusted for inflation, that $264 is the equivalent of around $6,800 today.
Among the many cultural innovations of the Victorian age, printed sheet music was one of the most widespread. The upright piano made it possible for most middle-class families to have musical entertainment in their own parlors. Printed music had existed since the dawn of the press in the fifteenth century, but lithography and mechanized production made sheet music available to the masses.
"The Boz Quadrilles"
At the same time, while copyright protected an author's writing, there was no concept of licensing like we have today. Beloved characters from the novels of Charles Dickens lived on in songs inspired by his works, yet not necessarily authored - or authorized - by his pen. Much like today when we buy the soundtrack to a favorite movie, Victorian readers would sing songs that continued their literary experiences and contributed to their collective enjoyment of popular literature.
"Poor Little Nell"
See these items and other materials from the Dartmouth College Library's collections in the exhibit "Dickens at 200: Sketches, Curiosities, Expectations," which celebrates the 200th anniversary of Dickens's birth. The exhibit was curated by Laura Braunstein and will be on view in Berry Main Street until April 27, 2012.
How do I address the one I love on this Valentine's Day? The question has haunted lovers for ages, but luckily, we are here to help with Richardson's New London Fashionable Gentleman's Valentine Writer, or, the Lover's Own Book for this Year Containing a Very Choice Selection of Original and Popular Valentines with Appropriate Answers (Derby: Thomas Richardson, 183-) and the companion piece: Richardson's New Fashionable Lady's Valentine Writer, or, Cupid's Festival of Love Containing All the Most Popular New and Elegant Valentines for the Present Year (Derby: Thomas Richardson, 183-).
Whether you are a humble cottager or a man of wealth, the proper verse (and response) is "adapted to all situations in life." Love, apparently, knows class.
Early ski jump and toboggan hill, ca, 1910
(Iconog. 1604)
When Fred Harris, founder of the Dartmouth Outing Club, pitched his idea for a winter sports club in a 1909 letter in The D, ski jumping was definitely on his mind. Having jumped at Montreal's winter carnival, he envisioned thousands of spectators coming to Dartmouth to watch jumping. In fact, ski jumping was an event at the very first Dartmouth Winter Carnival, on a hill constructed of pine limbs and snow.
Ski jumping poster 1931
Poster collection
Dartmouth's big jump made its debut 90 years ago, at the 1922 Winter Carnival. It's 85 foot tall steel trestle was constructed by the Boston Bridge Company for $5,000, and the landing area abutted the golf course's 13th green. Almost immediately, Harris' dream came true. For decades, Dartmouth would be the center of east coast ski jumping, drawing the huge crowds he had imagined. (Harris probably did not imagine the occasional conflict between golfers and winter sports enthusiasts over damaging the fairways when plowing snow for more parking for ski jump spectators!)
Ski jump profile, ca. 1923
(Dartmouth Outing Club Records, DO-1 (8852)
Ski Jump and the 13th green, ca. 1925
by Paul J. Weber
(Ski jump photofile)
Over the years, the big jump was enlarged and improved, drew jumpers from all over the world, and hosted many intercollegiate championships. In 1980, the NCAA discontinued ski jumping as a sport. The following year, Dartmouth was the only winter carnival with ski jumping on its schedule, and the competition was designated the Eastern Collegiate Jumping Championship.
Ski jumping remained active at Dartmouth for many years even after the NCAA's decision, but in the spring of 1993, the decision was made to dismantle the big jump, its silhouette having graced the golf course for 70 years.
Really? Pat the Bunny? In Special Collections?
Yes, we really did just acquire the first edition of Dorothy Kunhardt's toddler classic Pat the Bunny (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1940). The book is in remarkably good condition considering that most copies are lovingly destroyed by one-year olds playing peek-a-boo, feeling Daddy's scratchy face and fitting their fingers through Mummy's ring. Our copy still has its original box and all of its gimmicks in working order.
If you are not familiar with the book, it is designed to be read aloud to very young children who can follow along using other senses--they are invited to look at mirrors and pictures, feel textured surfaces, and even sniff the pages.
We acquired the book to be used alongside our strong children's book collections, but also because many of features of modern artists' books, which are sometimes more playthings than texts, were first employed in children's books.
On March 2, the National Education Association is celebrating the birthday of Ted Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss. On that day, schools around the country will have guests coming in to read Seuss stories and some lucky students will lunch on green eggs and ham. Here at Rauner, you can reflect on the good doctor's beginnings. Geisel '25 honed his craft writing for the campus lampoon magazine, The Jack-O-Lantern and adopted his nom de plume after he was caught on campus with alcohol during Prohibition. Unfortunately, most of the humor in the Jack-O was written for college-age men in the 1920s and is not particularly suitable for elementary school students. But, here are two of his milder cartoons for your enjoyment on Dr. Seuss Day.
