Antarctica in My Mind

Ike Taylor

In 1955, Dr. Isaac “Ike” Taylor, a then professor of medicine at the University of North Carolina School of Medicine, husband and father of five, left his civilian life behind and volunteered for “Operation Deep Freeze” a mission dedicated to exploration and scientific research in Antarctica

Taylor assumed active duty as lieutenant commander in the U.S Naval Reserve Medical Corps and served as Chief Medical Officer at McMurdo Sound, Antarctica from 1955-1957. The airbase established at McMurdo Sound was constructed as part of the International Geophysical Year.

The Durham Morning Herald reported in 1957, “The year has been set up in order that simultaneous observations may be made over the entire world in such sciences as astronomy, meteorology, oceanography, geology, glaciology and others. Scientists from 55 nations are taking part in the program.”

"One of the first planes to be flown in ('55) with Erubus in background steaming 12/55"

Taylor’s previous research on the physiological effects of low temperature on tissue and his interest in Antarctic explorations led him to volunteer for the mission. For close to two years he studied hypothermia, the effects of cold weather on personnel, performed research and tended to the medical needs of the 60 men stationed at McMurdo Sound.

Almost half of his papers (Isaac Taylor papers Mss-219) are comprised of family correspondence. Throughout the entirety of his service in Antarctica Taylor exchanged hundreds of letters with his wife Trudy and their five children: Alec, James, Kate, Livingston, and Hugh. Taylor’s letters home include descriptions of his work, the landscape, newly constructed buildings and Naval equipment and vessels. From a letter dated January 10, 1956 Taylor writes to his two eldest sons:

Dear Alec and James: Can you imagine what I am doing now? You would love it if you were here…We are camped on a small beach of black gravel and sand formed from the lava of the volcano, Mt. Erebus, which lies 14 miles away. No lava has come from the volcano in many years though we can see smoke and steam coming from the top.

It is evident that Taylor’s descriptions of his adventures in Antarctica and the general mystery surrounding such a far off place sparked the artistic minds of his children. You can see the product of their young imaginations and artistry in the drawings and paintings of Antarctica that accompany their letters back to Taylor.

This painting by his son James, shares a close resemblance to the volcano that Taylor described in his letter from January.

The painting by his son, Alec seems to depict “Operation Deep Freeze” and the men at McMurdo Sound, including Admiral Richard Byrd.

Despite being thousands of miles away or as Taylor wrote: “The Antarctic is about as far away from Chapel Hill as it is possible to go.” The family maintained a connection through words and images.  As Taylor would describe his life and work in Antarctica, his wife and children would share descriptions of their everyday lives in North Carolina including: travel, weather, illnesses, holidays, homework assignments, and Christmas lists.

Personally, the letters and artwork so obviously represent the unwavering love between father and his children and the influence of his narrative and on their imaginations.

“East Wind USCGC at ice ridge, McMurdo Sound, Summer 1956”

Initially my interest in Taylor’s papers was piqued due to the extensive amount of family correspondence, especially the paintings by his children. In digging a little deeper into the collection, an exciting discovery was unearthed. James, Taylor’s second eldest son is in fact famed singer-songwriter James Taylor. Up until a few weeks ago the familial connection between Isaac and James Taylor was unbeknownst to Rauner Library staff members. It goes to show that the opportunity for discovery is ever present here at Rauner Library and continuously adds to the excitement of our day!

The Isaac Taylor papers (Mss- 219) are a part of Rauner Library’s Stefansson Collection on Polar Exploration, which features the papers of many polar explorers in addition to published materials, photographs, and vertical files. If you would like to learn more about “Operation Deep Freeze” and the Taylor family you can request Mss-219 at the reference desk.
     
     
     
     

Light and Shadows in the Thirties

The boys sit in rows, their knobby knees emerging from beneath their shorts as they wait further instructions. This photograph from the 1930s speaks to the power of youth organizations, and it comes from the 1939 brochure America's Answer. The Boy Scouts were America's Answer to fascist and communist youth organizations, instilling American boys with a correct sense of patriotism. However, the Americans weren't the only ones creating propagandistic photographic books.

The second photograph in this blog post comes from a series of pamphlets published by anti-fascists in Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War (1946-1939). It's a rallying cry against fascist brutality, featuring two slain fighters. The image is a memento of its time, when both automobiles and horses cruised the streets of Barcelona. These are just two images from our latest exhibition, Light and Shadows in the Thirties, which presents the wide variety of photographic books during the 1930s.

Rocked by the economic crisis of the Great Depression, nations questioned previous orthodoxies and experimented with new systems, often selling their solutions or sentimentalizing their problems using the power of the photograph. Light and Shadows in the Thirties presents these photographic books as a vital medium in this turbulent and pivotal decade.

The exhibit was curated by Bay Lauris ByrneSim and will be on display in the Class of 1965 Galleries from February 16 to March 30, 2016.

The books featured in this post are: America's Answer. New York: Boy Scouts of America, 1939.  Rare Book HS3313.B69 1939. Visions de guerra i de reraguarda, Serie A. Barcelona: Editorial Forja, 1937. Rare Book DP269.15 .V57  v.1-8 Ap.1937-Oct.1937.

The Comic History of England

Whoever said history is a serious subject is a liar. Or, at least, that's probably what Gilbert à Beckett thought. He was the author of The Comic History of England, a three-volume 1840s text that pokes fun at Britain through the years, starting with the Druids and ending with the reign of King George II. To those who might feel offended at his humorous treatment of history, the author says in his introduction that "he has so much real respect for the great and good, that he is desirous of preventing the little and bad from continuing to claim admiration on false pretenses." Noble and funny -- sounds like this guy would have been a great dinner party guest!

The book is filled with illustrations reminiscent of political cartoons. Perhaps this shouldn't be surprising, given that à Beckett was a founding staff member at Punch magazine, which was the first publication to use the word "cartoon" in its modern sense. À Beckett pokes fun at uncouth druids and snooty nobles alike, skewering English class differences. Although, as you can see by his depiction of William the Conqueror, he's not above some good old-fashioned slapstick either!

Not an Anglophile? Never fear, à Beckett wrote more than just History of England -- Rauner has a copy of his The Comic History of Rome, too.

To see The Comic History of England, ask for Illus L516ac. For the The Comic History of Rome, Illus L516acr.

Posted for Emily Rutherford '16.

How the Grinch Stole Carnival

In 1981, Dartmouth paid homage to one of its favorite alums with the Winter Carnival theme “Hanover Hears a Who.” It’s not the only time we’ve done it, “How the Grinch Stole Carnival,” 1992 was also inspired by Geisel, as was one of the most famous themes “Oh, the Places it Snows,” which commemorated what would have been the doctor’s 100th birthday. Dr. Seuss’s books take up nearly an entire shelf in the Alumni section of the stacks, and among them is the Winter Carnival issue of the Jack-O-Lantern from 1981. The issue served as the official program for the celebrations, and the Jack-O got the honors because of Seuss’s legacy as editor-in-chief.

Theodore Geisel served as a cartoonist as well as the the Editor-in-Chief of the Jack-O during his time at Dartmouth, but was unfortunately forced to quit after he was punished by the administration, supposedly for having alcohol, which in 1925, was very much in violation of prohibition. How very Dartmouth. Unbeknownst to the administration, he continued his work for the magazine under the pen name Dr. Seuss, and a legend was born.

Aside from the four pages dedicated to the Winter Carnival council members, the official schedule, and the history of the event, the issue is chock-full of articles and jokes centered around their most famous  alum. The articles include “A critical analysis of the philosophy of Dr. Seuss,” a primer for Soviet children by “Dr. Seusslov,” “Green Eggs and Hamlet,” “Why the Grinch Stole Christmas” (“because of an unresolved homosexual Oedipal complex”) and “Horton hears the Who.”

The most relatable, however, is probably “How the Grinch Stole Carnival,” a very Seussian poem in rhythm and style about how the Grinch doesn’t like the preps in Prepville and how excited they are about the festivities. He proceeds to take all the paraphernalia from the frats and blows up Hanover.

The issue also includes a “Seussian” crossword with clues like “try your own name,” and “maybe I spelled it wrong.” The directions go from across and down to “across, but then sharply downward,” and “down, then slant off to the side, kinda.”

Although the issue might seem to be poking fun of the great illustrator and author, it’s done with respect. The letter from the editor is sincere and credits Seuss for all he has done. The issue ends with a picture of the Jack-O when Geisel was Editor-in-Chief with the caption “…And the legend lives on.” Plus, Seuss wasn’t easily offended or likely to take satire the wrong way. After all, he did illustrate a joke book titled Boners: Being a Collection of Schoolboy Wisdom, or Knowledge as it is Sometimes Written, Compiled from Classrooms and Examination Papers!

Posted for Maggie Baird '18

You Got a Perty Binding

"Vellucent" binding was invented by Cedric Chivers around the turn of the 20th century. It was touted as the best thing in the book arts since paper was invented - at least by Chivers and his associates. The fad lasted for a fairly brief period.

The "vellucent" process was patented by Chivers in 1898 and boils down to two essential steps. First the artist - typically one of the women employed by Chivers in his Bath, England, bindery - would paint or draw directly onto a thin subsurface. Additional decorative materials including mother of pearl or precious metals could also be applied at this time. Once complete, the entire piece would be covered in a transparent layer of vellum and then be attached to the boards as with any other book. The vellum protected the fragile underlying decorative layer, added a "warm" tone to the work and allowed for additional gold tooling as desired.

Much like the Rubaiyat we've mentioned before, the final product was all about visual appeal. The text was secondary and only served as inspiration for the scene depicted by the artist. Is it art, is it kitsch, is is pretty? You be the judge.

Ask for any or all of the following: Sine Illus B55hunf, Sine Illus B76cran, Sine Illus B76cric, Sine Illus B76essl, Sine Illus B76kee, Sine Illus B76ourv copy 1 & copy 2, Sine Illus B76vica, Sine Illus B766sin, Sine Illus D655nat, Sine Illus E55gar, Sine Illus H687imi, Sine Illus L443car, Sine Illus S865skeb & Sine Illus T56cran.

Spratt's Patent Cod Liver Oil Dog Cakes

Yummy! This advertisement for Spratt's Patent Cod Liver Oil Dog Cakes appears in one of the coolest items in our extensive Stefansson polar research collection: Fridtjof Nansen's Farthest North in its 1898 serialized parts (London: George Newnes). That a book on arctic exploration could be published and sold in the manner of a popular novel says loads about how the arctic had infected the public consciousness at the time. Nansen's voyage sparked romantic visions for an English audience eager for true life adventure in an ever shrinking world.

But it is the advertisements that really get you thinking. They offer the London middle-class reader an opportunity to vicariously explore the globe's unknown reaches through the magic of consumerism. Can't go to the arctic? Well, at least you treat your dogs the same biscuits Nansen fed to his dogs! It is reminiscent of all of the kids in the 1970s who had to have Tang over actual orange juice because Tang went to the moon.

To take a look ask for Stef G700 1893 .N22.

Misunderstood Youth

While preparing for a class on mysticism, a library school intern stumbled across a fascinating little book: Saint Joan of Arc by Mark Twain. Given the well-known propensity of the author for edgy humor, we expected to find a waggish re-interpretation of the Maid of Orléans, rife with clever barbs aimed at the French and any number of other hapless victims. Instead, Twain's attitude towards Joan of Arc might best be described as adulation. In the opening pages of this lovely little book, which seems to be an abridged children's version of his more weighty Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, Twain reprints the latter work's preface and judges Joan's character as occupying "the loftiest place possible to human attainment, a loftier one that has been reached by any other mere mortal."

Although we did not realize it when we first examined this text, Twain's fascination with the Maid of Orléans has been characterized by at least one writer as "among the most baffling and least talked about enigmas in American literature." Although there is debate about when Twain first became enamored of the young girl, there is little argument over the serious and studious interest that the American author had in Joan. He has been described as one of the first writers to introduce her story to an English-speaking audience, nearly four hundred years after her death left her reputation shrouded in controversy.

Regardless of Twain's true motivation for his veneration of Joan (a worship that predated the French martyr's beatification by several decades), this work reveals an unfamiliar yet somehow pleasing contrast to the larger-than-life persona that Twain worked so hard to cultivate for so much of his career. Still, for all his apparent earnestness, Twain's preface concludes with a sentence more in keeping with his usual ironic tone: "And for all reward, the French King, whom she had crowned, stood supine and indifferent, while French priests took the noble child, the most innocent, the most lovely, the most adorable the ages have produced, and burned her alive at the stake." This edition, published in 1919, attempts in some small way to rebalance the scales by acknowledging her sainthood in its title, centuries after she was set aflame as a heretic.

To see Saint Joan of Arc, by Mark Twain, come to Rauner and ask for Rare DC103 .C63 1919.