"Here boys is what they used for women in Dartmouth College plays in the days when Colby was just another college away off in Maine."
– Larry Griswold ’08
For a college that would not admit women until 1972, the idea that men could cross-dress as women characters and be celebrated may seem preposterous. However, Dartmouth Theater has a long history of "female impersonators," a term which back then was used to describe men who regularly played women in theater productions. From the College’s founding in 1769 until 1925, Dartmouth Theater productions, which were predominantly performed by the group called the Dartmouth Players, only had men in the cast. In 1925, forty-seven years before the college would become co-educational, the Players began casting women in their productions. At face value, one might assume a "forward thinking mindset" was growing on campus. As I culled through the litany of hand-written letters, playbills and magazine articles, I discovered that this was not the case. Instead, it appears that fear and tragedy are the cause.
In 1921, four years prior to the integration of women into Dartmouth Theater, President Hopkins writes to Doctor Bancroft, a friend and psychologist, that "[he] is exceedingly anxious to send one of
our boys down to talk with you because I feel certain of the advantage that it will be to him to feel free to talk with somebody…I do not think that in his case abnormality has gone any detrimental extent as yet…"
The student in question is James Harvey D. Zuckerman. Zuckerman is a junior at this time and a member of the Dartmouth Players. He is also one of their female impersonators and played one of the leading ladies in the past fall’s production.
President Hopkins is very aware of this background as he writes to Bancroft and, as common for his letters addressing these subjects, he dances around the issue with his descriptions of "unnatural instincts" that are "out of keeping" with Dartmouth’s values:
"Sometime I want to talk with some of your authorities on mental hygiene in regard to the general problem of whether playing girls’ parts in the dramatic performances make a man effeminate or whether being effeminate qualifies him for playing girls’ parts. I am considered, among the dramatic group, as being unduly concerned on the question and if so I want to get over it. The fact is, however, that we have had a distinct tendency among a considerable number of the men who have played the so-called leads in girl characters to develop exotic or unnatural instincts which are thoroughly out of keeping with what the College means to stand for."
Perhaps uncharacteristically, President Hopkins’s next few sentences are rather direct:
"In one case, three years ago, the boy wandered off from Hanover and safeguarded the College reputation to the extent that he committed suicide in New York rather than here, but the underlying fact was that his affection for one of his dramatic club associates was not only unappreciated but was rebuffed."
The correspondence never fully concludes whether or not "playing girls' parts" is the cause of the "exotic or unnatural instincts" of which President Hopkins is so concerned.
While there is a lot to unpack in President Hopkins' anxieties surrounding the gender performance of the Dartmouth Players, I was shocked by the story about the student who committed suicide and how much President Hopkins knew about the incident. His information about the student's "affection" for another Dartmouth Player and that this affection "was rebuffed" made me believe there was an investigation surrounding the incident. As such, I thought it would be fairly easy to figure out who this student was – President Hopkins even gave a timeframe: "three years ago." However, as I searched through records of students who would have been at Dartmouth in 1917, 1918, or 1919, there was no other information about the incident.
The 1940 catalog, which lists graduates and non-graduates of Dartmouth up through 1940, does not have any student who fits President Hopkins' description. The catalog places an "*" beside the names of alumni who passed away by 1940 along with a description of death. From 1911 to 1921, there is no student, either graduate or non-graduate who fits the given information.
Furthermore, no Dartmouth Players listed in the playbills died under mysterious circumstances: their alumni files describe their long lives after graduation. However, there are only two playbills from 1916-1919 which means some names could be missing. The Aegis includes some of the cast lists, but this is also not comprehensive, and, of the Players listed, none died by 1921.
There is one interesting letter from a Mr. Axtell to President Hopkins in which Mr. Axtell discusses that his son will respond to these inquiries after returning from service abroad. His son, F. Donovan Axtell, was elected Assistant Director of the Dartmouth Dramatic Association for 1917-1918, the years in question. However, there is no reply from F. Donovan Axtell to President Hopkins or any other correspondences. There are also no other indications in the records that President Hopkins wrote to any other members of the Directorate.
In the 1919 Aegis, there is an "In Memoriam" page for Norman Kingsley Pearce, Assistant Business Manager of the Dartmouth Dramatic Association. According to an article in the Dartmouth, he passed away suddenly on April 15
th, 1918 in Mary Hitchcock Hospital due to sudden complications with a cold. He received an operation in Mary Hitchcock which slightly assisted in his recovery before losing consciousness and passing away shortly thereafter.
Who is the student that President Hopkins refers to in his letter to Bancroft? I have no clue. Perhaps President Hopkins over-embellished in the hope of gaining Bancroft’s support for intervention? It is possible. Perhaps the information has been lost or even purposefully excluded. Both of these are also possible, and we may never know which one is correct. What we do know is that the archives seem to be silent on this question, leaving us to wonder why.
To explore this mystery for yourself, or to learn more about the Dartmouth Players, come to Rauner and ask to browse the Dartmouth Players records (DO-60, box 6522, Folder 21 “For One Night and One Night Only”) and President Hopkin's Presidential Papers (DP-11, Box 6764, Folder 101 “Undergraduates S-Z”).
Posted for Katie Carithers '20, recipient of a Rauner Student Research Fellowship for the 2018 Spring term. The Rauner Student Research Fellowships provide full funding for a Dartmouth student to conduct research with primary sources during an off-term on a topic of their choosing. For more information, visit the fellowship's website.
It is a fitting day to feature a very curious book in our collection. It is a copy of Jacques Levy's Cesar Chavez: Autobiography of La Causa, but one that has been transformed and re-titled "Journal of Protest" by Dr. George Margolis, professor of Pathology at the Dartmouth Medical School from 1963-1982. Margolis chose a book about someone he most admired to collect his own story of protest by pasting the book full of mementos of his fight for social justice.
This last week, Rauner welcomed art history professor Katie Hornstein's History of Photography class for an hour-long romp through some of the most amazing books related to photography. Some of the gems included Gardner's Sketch Book of the Civil War and autographed prints by Margaret Bourke-White that were published in Erskine Caldwell's You Have Seen Their Faces. Another beautiful work that the students explored was Camera Work, a photography journal edited by Alfred Stieglitz that ran from 1903 through 1917.
Alfred Stieglitz is often credited for the eventual acceptance of photography as an legitimate art form in the 20th century. He was also known as a promoter of modern art and ran several New York art galleries and was the husband of artist Georgia O'Keeffe. Shortly after 1902 Stieglitz founded a movement called the Photo-Secession that disavowed all traditional definitions of what constituted a photograph. This included a rejection of the oppressive control that contemporary institutions, galleries, and art schools had over the determination of what could and could not be considered art.
Camera Work was a vehicle for promoting this movement by showcasing the work of the Photo-Secessionists, primarily through high-quality photogravure reproductions of film positives that had been transferred to a copper plate. Stieglitz's insistence on perfection in these reproductions was such that, at least in one instance, the photogravures were hung in a gallery exhibition instead of the actual prints, whose delivery had been delayed.
When he was a child, Arthur R. Kantrowitz and his younger brother Adrian liked to build things. Using old radio parts, they constructed an electrocardiograph on the table in their Bronx kitchen in the 1920s. As the brothers grew up their paths diverged. Adrian became a physician and heart surgeon, while Arthur turned to physics and engineering. However, throughout the 1950s and 1960s they continued to collaborate on mechanical inventions that would prolong the life of patients with heart failure, such as the inter-aortic balloon pump (1967) and the left ventricular assist device (1972).
One of his earliest inventions, however, was more tangible. In 1937, Kantrowitz submitted a patent request related to caster wheels, in particular the behavior of shimmy in said wheels. He proposed that by permitting the wheel only to move a limited distance “laterally relative to the axis of the castering spindle…the tire deflection is partially neutralized continually and its interaction with the angular motion can be reduced enough to prevent shimmy." Kantrowitz felt that this application could be of significant importance when it came to a “castering wheel for aircraft and other vehicles.” The patent was approved in September 1939.
We seem to be obsessing over photograph books lately. Not sure why, but here is another one! In 1938, while the Depression still raged, the poet Archibald MacLeish made use of the Farm Security Administration's invitation to writers to make creative use of their vast photographic collections. MacLeish produced a poem, but rather than use the photographs to illustrate the poem, he reversed the usual format. On the dust jacket blurb, he writes: "Land of the Free" is the opposite of a book of poems illustrated by photographs. It is a book of photographs illustrated by a poem.
