I Love Harry

 Harry Ackerman is one alumnus you’ve probably never heard of, but probably should have. He was a high executive at Screen Gems, a company owned by Columbia Pictures, and during his prime was responsible for up to seven popular TV shows at a time on the network. His life is documented through his papers which are all housed at Rauner. Although his correspondence and pictures are interesting, what’s really unique is the scripts that we have. The collection includes numerous pilot scripts, from flops you never knew were written to the origins of smash hits.

One of the pilot scripts is Archie by Ray Allen. Although Archie wasn't quite a hit, this 1962 script was the prelude to the 1964 movie of the same name. It’s bizarre to read the script without the visual presentation that the comic provides. Bits that would usually be resolved at the end of a strip are awkwardly connected to a larger plot. In case you were wondering, Archie doesn’t end up with Betty or Veronica this time. He takes Mildred to the dance.

Another curiosity is the pilot script for Bewitched. It turns out Samantha, the witch who charmed television screens for eight years starting in 1964, was actually originally named Cassandra. This script is from a little under a year before the air date. The title is penciled in, so it may be this copy is one of the first with the actual title “I Darrin, Take This Witch Samantha.”

Ackerman's legacy that you’re probably most familiar with is I Love Lucy. Ackerman saw Lucille Ball ad libbing on a charity show and wanted her for the part. He was an exec at the time, and in an article he wrote titled “The Legacy of Lucy,” he talks about how she was terrible during rehearsal, but completely stepped it up for the live performance. We have an early draft of the article, and it seems it was Ackerman who decided I Love Lucy had to be taped live. This, in combination with the filming style, led to the three-camera technique that has become a staple of the industry.

We also have the pilot of Dennis the Menace, which, aside from being really cool, includes a list of “don’ts” during shooting, ranging from “No drunkenness” to “No shaving or display of shaving equipment.”

The collection is housed under ML-81
For Archie, ask for Box 8 folder 24
For Bewitched, ask for Box 8, folder 40
For I Love Lucy, ask for Box 12, folders 17-21
For Dennis the Menace, ask for Box 10, folders 7-8

Posted for Maggie Baird '18

The Geneva Bible

When the Catholic queen Mary Tudor ruled England (1553-1558), a group of Protestants fearing persecution fled to Geneva. While there, they created a new English translation of the Bible, which they printed in Geneva in 1560. Because it drew from the renowned international and academic resources in Geneva, the Geneva Bible was considered the best of contemporary scholarship. At the same time, the composition and style of the Geneva Bible made it attractive and accessible.

The Geneva Bible quickly became the most popular English translation and was printed primarily by the Royal Printer in London. As the notes on the text were considered to have a Calvinistic bent, the Puritans particularly loved it. Indeed, many of the early American colonists brought Geneva Bibles with them to the New World. Most of the Geneva Bibles at Dartmouth were passed down through families for generations and then donated to the college.

While one might perceive of Bible printers and sellers as pious individuals, those involved in the production of the Geneva Bible were anything but saintly. London printers and their rivals in Amsterdam engaged in a series of nasty lawsuits in the first half of the seventeenth century. The John Alden Bible on display in Rauner is an example of a Geneva Bible printed in Amsterdam in 1633 with a false imprint claiming it was printed in London in 1599.

The Geneva Bible was given the nickname “Breeches Bible” in the nineteenth century because of the reference in Genesis 3:7 to Adam and Eve clothing themselves in “breeches.” Though this rendering was memorable, it was not unique to the Geneva Bible. In fact, the earlier Wycliffe translations also contained this wording. This nickname can be seen on the spine of at 1584 Geneva Bible on display in Rauner. This Bible has original covers containing tooled leather with metal bosses and clasps, but the spine was rebound more recently.

The exhibit will be on display through Commencement in the Rauner Library Reading Room.

Posted for Abby Thornburg '15

VE Day: In Letters

"VE day was taken very calmly here. It was really very much of an anti-climax as we had been anticipating it for a number of days and had been seeing hundreds of German soldiers who had laid down their arms and were trying to reach our rear area. No one paid any attention to them. It really struck me as very satirical as the war was still going on at that time."

That was the view of Corporal Charles Roland in a May 10, 1945, letter to Henry Williams. Roland was in Germany at the time and he also notes that he felt that "as of VE day plus one I am in the best of shape and therefore feel that my chances of surviving this old war are pretty darn good." He goes on to caution Williams against "this Pacific business" since Williams was "a married man." Roland writes that "If I were you I would try to stay right where you are."

A letter from George Lucas in Okinawa dated May 25, 1945, expresses the hope that since the "news from Europe is very good" he hopes that "the same kind of news comes from this way soon." Lucas also mentions his lack of sleep due to the fact that the Japanese "still insist on sending planes over every once in a while."

These and numerous other letters from friends of Williams document the experiences of many during World War II. They range in content from a brief postcard sent from Dijon - "The town is one of the best I have seen over here" to a much more candid letter.

I've seen some pretty horrible things over here, but let's not go into 'em right now - or anytime. I wish to forget as fast as is possible.

And later in the same letter:

If things continue I may make the "White Boat" and return to the States. I rather expect to, but don't like the method. I feel like I've done something over here to help out, but am scared to death of what I might do in my sleep. An I also don't see much sense in returning - if at all - a mental wreck. I'm wondering where I can find a psychiatrist to check me over.

In addition to being a Dartmouth faculty member, Williams served in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers where he became an expert in camouflage design and attained the rank of Captain. After the war, he returned to Dartmouth and was appointed Director of the Experimental Theatre. Though his papers focus mainly on his work at Dartmouth and his interest in the theater, there are several boxes related to his work during World War II which include correspondence from friends serving in various areas, numerous training manuals and photographs.

Ask for ML-69. A guide to the collection is available. Most of the World War II material is contained in boxes 8-12.

Side Table

In 1905, Russia and Japan signed the peace treaty that ended the Russo-Japanese War. Though brief in duration, the war was a harbinger of the coming mechanized conflict that tore the world apart in 1914. The treaty was signed at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in Kittery, Maine, just across the border from Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

That same year, John Bartlett, Dartmouth 1894, purchased "one of the mahogany tables used in the Peace Conference room." Though not the "large table... at which they sat when they did their actual diplomatic sparring," it was "one of the side tables around which one party or the other gathered when they wanted to whisper to each other." He then offered the table to Dartmouth President William Tucker in the hope that it would be used either in "some reading room" or as a "centre table or reference table." After a bit of prompting, Tucker accepted the gift, complete with an engraved silver plate commemorating the Treaty signing.

Another Dartmouth link to the treaty is Asakawa Kan’ichi, Dartmouth 1899, the first Japanese student to attend Dartmouth. Asakawa was a professor at Dartmouth from 1902-1906 and President Tucker paid Asakawa's expenses to attend the proceedings, presumably as part of Asakawa's ongoing research into the conflict and its resolution. This trip may have helped provide material for his article in the Atlantic Monthly on "Korea and Manchuria Under the New Treaty."

To see the table in its current home, come in to Rauner. Ask for the vertical file "Portsmouth, Treaty of, Table" for more information. To read Asakawa's article, ask for Alumni A798k.

Modern Gods

What will scholars write about us in five hundred years? How will they interpret the objects that we value, or the ways in which we interact with each other?

Acclaimed book artist Sam Winston explores these questions and more in Modern Gods, created in 2013 for an exhibition at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum. The museum had commissioned twenty artists to create a “walk-in book” experience for Hari Kunzru’s dystopian novel Memory Palace. Set in London, Memory Palace delves into a distant future in which humans have rebuilt society in the aftermath of a massive magnetic storm that destroyed the world’s 21st century information infrastructure. The novel’s protagonist attempts to piece together history with whatever cultural and technological remnants he can find.

In response to Memory Palace, Winston adopts the lens of an archaeologist from the future, trying to unravel the deeper meanings of the objects that we consider mundane today. Modern Gods consists of three scrolls, each meticulously printed with elemental symbols from the periodic table and arranged in the shape of a molecule. Winston juxtaposes science with sacred geometry and mysticism; as he breaks objects down into their elemental structure, he also builds them up into objects of worship, reminiscent of an ancient manuscript from which a priest would chant. Modern Gods forces its readers to think--not only about the ways in which we interpret the belief systems of the past, but also about our modern-day idols: wealth, technology, and knowledge. Winston captions each scroll with an archaeologist’s notes. One scroll (pictured) describes a watch:

These were sometimes hung on walls but more often it was worn on the wrist as an amulet. It was most powerful in the booming, it had the strength to rise millions from sleep and animate their limbs even though they did not wish to move. Giant herds of people were called a ‘commute’ and this objected had command over all ‘commuting.’ Even though it was all-powerful, they called it a gentle name--time peace.

Modern Gods also includes an illustrated copy of Memory Palace, a DVD about the Victoria & Albert Museum exhibition, and a signed copy of Winston’s sketchbook. To unroll Winston’s scrolls and figure out the other two objects for yourself, ask for Presses A252wimo.

Posted for Emily Estelle '15

A Work in Progress

You can search for Dartmouth College photographs wherever you are and download them to your device of choice. On the Rauner Library home page you can search Photo Records, the work of the college photographers, though only those from this century are digital and ready to be downloaded. You can also search through the Photo Files. These photographs are arranged topically and date from the beginning of photography.

Searching the images is typically by topic or keyword. For example, search for "Dartmouth Hall" in Photo Files and up come 1665 images. Try using the four digit number in the first catalog entry from that initial search: "0663."  That limits the results to just the photographs in folder "Dartmouth Hall Opening." Here's an image of the crowd from that day.

Both Photo Records and Photo Files are works in progress. The Photo Records images are added to on a regular basis as we receive new images from the college photographer. The Photo Files images are also regularly being added to as we scan the more than 100,000 images represented in the collection. As of this post, approximately 34,000 images representing topics through "Lacrosse, Womens" are available.

Samuel Bradley Wiggin

"The South, for the next century, is doomed. I see no hope for it. The Devil has a mortgage on it and means to foreclose," proclaimed Samuel B. Wiggin in 1873, in a letter to his mother. Wiggin, a student at Dartmouth College, took a leave of absence from Dartmouth in November 1873, and traveled from Boston to Lexington, Mississippi to teach school. In a series of letters to his mother, Wiggin describes his journey, which took him to New York, Philadelphia, Washington, DC.,  and Cincinnati. At nineteen, Wiggin is excited about the prospect of teaching and chooses not to teach in the "white school in the village" but rather in a "colored one" outside of town. After his arrival in Lexington, Wiggin first resides at the "Carpetbag Headquarters" above Jordan's Store, the unofficial meeting place of the Northerners in Lexington. He is heartily welcomed by the other "carpetbaggers" and in his first letter from Lexington to his mother he writes that he had a "pleasant" trip and that he will miss the cities of the North despite the fact that they are "dirty and smoky. "This [the North] is the country for a young man and not the South. Here a man must go up and down with the fluctuation of the cotton." He had also observed "the intense feeling of hatred with which the southern whites" regarded the carpetbaggers. "Within the past few days I have seen southern women walk twenty feet out into the street to avoid passing under the Stars and Stripes."

Mississippi had been the second state to secede from the Union and the last to return. It was also one of the states where 55 percent of the population was black. Wiggin was most likely recruited by the Freedman's Bureau (Bureau of Refugees, Freedmen and Abandoned Lands), which had been created in 1865 to assist the freedmen and the defeated white population. The Bureau supplied clothing, food and fuel, built schools and tried to protect the civil rights of the freed slaves. Wiggin's letters are very descriptive. They are at times benevolent towards the black population, but at other times overtly racist:

A negro is and never can be the equal of the white. My scholars have not one third that power of the mind of white children a the same age. Nor do they have that desire to learn… They are like their parents thick-sculled, dull of comprehension and slow to learn.

In his letters, Wiggin expresses the ambivalence toward freed blacks typical of many Northerners of the time. He did not believe in slavery, but he had little faith in their ability to thrive in the United States: "I'm inclined to think that God made him to live in Africa, where no white man can live." His collection of letters offers disturbing and fascinating insights into Reconstruction era views on race.

Wiggin leaves Lexington in March 1874. By that time he had had enough of the South and yearned to be back home in Boston. He returned to Dartmouth and graduated with the class of 1875. After graduation, he studied law and practiced in New York City and, later, in San Francisco. In 1881, he married the author Kate Douglas. Wiggin died suddenly of a cerebral apoplexy in 1889, at the age of 35.

To read all the letters in this small collection ask for Ms-236.