Friday, March 20, 2009
One Last Note
Here it is guys, the last note from 2M11. With the finding aid done, we've been taking care of last minute details this past week, and are now nearing the finish line. Thanks to everyone for reading and occasionally commenting. I hope you enjoyed reading the blog as much I as I enjoyed writing it! The email address for the blog account is rbmlblog@gmail.com so if you have any questions about the blog in the future, you can address them there. Otherwise, you can visit the RBML at Columbia University to finally see all of the stuff I've been writing about in person (or send an email to rbml@libraries.cul.columbia.edu). There are many wonderful archivists and librarians there waiting to assist you.
Friday, March 13, 2009
"'The time has come,' the Walrus said . . . "
Its been a very long while, it seems, since I've had a chance to catch up with this blog. The past couple of weeks around here have been mostly devoted to writing . . . . THE FINDING AID! With two hundred years of history to cover, and 24 series and sub-series statements to write, not to mention the usual LC subject headings hunt, description, linear feet calculation, abstract, etc., etc. . . . it obviously took a while. But just this morning I dotted the last "i" and crossed the last "t" and now you only have a few weeks (at most) to wait until you can see the description in all its multi-page glory. For those unfamiliar with the Archival Portal on the Columbia Libraries website, here's a screenshot for you (click on the image and it will take you directly to the portal):
When you arrive at the page, you can do a search for "Chamber of Commerce" and the finding aid should pop up for your viewing pleasure. But, like I said, you'll have to wait for a few more weeks before its available. In the meantime, I thought I would just share some images from the collection that I scanned during the course of the project for one reason or another, but that I never managed to post on this blog:
1950s cover of a folder stuffed with NYCC promo materials
Photograph of winners of an essay contest held by the NYCC, circa 1950s
Reproduction of a handbill announcing the formation of the NYCC in 1768
Fraunces Tavern, the first headquarters of the NYCC, date unknown
Textiles found with an arbitration case from the late 1800s
Monthly meeting in the Great Hall, circa 1960s
Now that the finding aid is finished, Katie and I have the whole next week to devote to wrapping up loose ends, and most importantly, boxing up all of our oversize volumes in their newly arrived, specially made boxes. Then we will send off the last of the boxes to our off site storage facility, where they will wait with the rest of the collection until researchers ask to see them.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Definition of Terms
This week, I should be getting the last of our materials back from the Conservation Lab. I never got the chance to take a course on preservation and conservation when I was working on my MILS at Pratt, but I always wished that I had the chance to do so. Both preservation and conservation are enormously important to the archives profession, and this project in particular is a prime example of why.
Probably because I never took a class on preservation and conservation, I always get the two terms mixed up! So for those of you who can't keep the definitions straight either, here's are the definitions, pulled from the Glossary of the Society of American Archivists:
Conservation:
n. ~ 1. The repair or stabilization of materials through chemical or physical treatment to ensure that they survive in their original form as long as possible. – 2. The profession devoted to the preservation of cultural property for the future through examination, documentation, treatment, and preventive care, supported by research and education.
Notes: Conservation1 counters existing damage, as distinguished from preservation2, which attempts to prevent damage. Conservation does not always eliminate evidence of damage; restoration includes techniques to return materials to their original appearances (which may include fabrication of missing pieces). – However, conservation2 is often used to include preservation1 activities.
Preservation:
n. ~ 1. The professional discipline of protecting materials by minimizing chemical and physical deterioration and damage to minimize the loss of information and to extend the life of cultural property. – 2. The act of keeping from harm, injury, decay, or destruction, especially through noninvasive treatment. – 3. Law • The obligation to protect records and other materials potentially relevant to litigation and subject to discovery.
– preserve, v. ~ 4. To keep for some period of time; to set aside for future use. – 5. Conservation • To take action to prevent deterioration or loss. – 6. Law • To protect from spoliation.
Notes
Preservation2 is sometimes distinguished from conservation1, the latter describing treatments to repair damage. However, preservation activities are often considered a subdiscipline within the profession of conservation2. – Preservation3 is used in many public records laws to distinguish records from nonrecords; records are those materials that warrant preservation, that are set aside (usually by being filed). Materials that are not set aside for subsequent use do not fall within the scope of that legal definition. In this context, preservation is roughly synonymous with filing, with no connotation of permanent preservation.
In case you prefer to skip over those long definitions, I'll just note the part that pretty much sums it all up: "Conservation1 counters existing damage, as distinguished from preservation2, which attempts to prevent damage. Conservation does not always eliminate evidence of damage; restoration includes techniques to return materials to their original appearances (which may include fabrication of missing pieces)." In other words, we use preservation techniques, like photocopying acidic newspaper clippings or slipping items into acid free Mylar, to preserve the content of those clippings for the future. And we treat damaged items so that researchers can handle them safely and without contributing to further damage.
As I said, this has been especially important with the NYCC collection—as you may have gathered from previous posts, there has been A LOT of material in the collection in need of some major TLC. A large portion of these records were stored in unfavorable conditions and that was evident to Katie and me as we pulled out stack after stack of dirty, dusty, grimy material. Since archival documents are unique, and often times old, acidic, and fragile, they necessitate careful handling and storage in a climate controlled environment—otherwise you end up with a moldy, crumbling, unpleasant mess. There are some conservation and preservation issues that archivists can easily handle themselves: photocopying acidic paper, placing potentially damaging materials between acid free sheets of paper or in some kind of protective encasement, or using cleaning pads and powder or soft bamboo brushes to safely remove dirt from documents.
For anything that requires some really serious damage control (and when you have items that date back to 1768, you've got a lot of damage to control), we send items down to the talented, capable staff in the Conservation Lab. They deal with stuff like red rot on leather bound books
and board replacement on volumes with covers missing. They also relax tightly rolled documents, clean the truly dirty stuff, create special encasings for fragile materials, and generally make everything old and gross look new and pretty again. In other words, they do magical things to save materials that come to them in a sad state and make an archivist's job a little easier and a lot cleaner.
Probably because I never took a class on preservation and conservation, I always get the two terms mixed up! So for those of you who can't keep the definitions straight either, here's are the definitions, pulled from the Glossary of the Society of American Archivists:
Conservation:
n. ~ 1. The repair or stabilization of materials through chemical or physical treatment to ensure that they survive in their original form as long as possible. – 2. The profession devoted to the preservation of cultural property for the future through examination, documentation, treatment, and preventive care, supported by research and education.
Notes: Conservation1 counters existing damage, as distinguished from preservation2, which attempts to prevent damage. Conservation does not always eliminate evidence of damage; restoration includes techniques to return materials to their original appearances (which may include fabrication of missing pieces). – However, conservation2 is often used to include preservation1 activities.
Preservation:
n. ~ 1. The professional discipline of protecting materials by minimizing chemical and physical deterioration and damage to minimize the loss of information and to extend the life of cultural property. – 2. The act of keeping from harm, injury, decay, or destruction, especially through noninvasive treatment. – 3. Law • The obligation to protect records and other materials potentially relevant to litigation and subject to discovery.
– preserve, v. ~ 4. To keep for some period of time; to set aside for future use. – 5. Conservation • To take action to prevent deterioration or loss. – 6. Law • To protect from spoliation.
Notes
Preservation2 is sometimes distinguished from conservation1, the latter describing treatments to repair damage. However, preservation activities are often considered a subdiscipline within the profession of conservation2. – Preservation3 is used in many public records laws to distinguish records from nonrecords; records are those materials that warrant preservation, that are set aside (usually by being filed). Materials that are not set aside for subsequent use do not fall within the scope of that legal definition. In this context, preservation is roughly synonymous with filing, with no connotation of permanent preservation.
In case you prefer to skip over those long definitions, I'll just note the part that pretty much sums it all up: "Conservation1 counters existing damage, as distinguished from preservation2, which attempts to prevent damage. Conservation does not always eliminate evidence of damage; restoration includes techniques to return materials to their original appearances (which may include fabrication of missing pieces)." In other words, we use preservation techniques, like photocopying acidic newspaper clippings or slipping items into acid free Mylar, to preserve the content of those clippings for the future. And we treat damaged items so that researchers can handle them safely and without contributing to further damage.
As I said, this has been especially important with the NYCC collection—as you may have gathered from previous posts, there has been A LOT of material in the collection in need of some major TLC. A large portion of these records were stored in unfavorable conditions and that was evident to Katie and me as we pulled out stack after stack of dirty, dusty, grimy material. Since archival documents are unique, and often times old, acidic, and fragile, they necessitate careful handling and storage in a climate controlled environment—otherwise you end up with a moldy, crumbling, unpleasant mess. There are some conservation and preservation issues that archivists can easily handle themselves: photocopying acidic paper, placing potentially damaging materials between acid free sheets of paper or in some kind of protective encasement, or using cleaning pads and powder or soft bamboo brushes to safely remove dirt from documents.
For anything that requires some really serious damage control (and when you have items that date back to 1768, you've got a lot of damage to control), we send items down to the talented, capable staff in the Conservation Lab. They deal with stuff like red rot on leather bound books
and board replacement on volumes with covers missing. They also relax tightly rolled documents, clean the truly dirty stuff, create special encasings for fragile materials, and generally make everything old and gross look new and pretty again. In other words, they do magical things to save materials that come to them in a sad state and make an archivist's job a little easier and a lot cleaner.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
This is the story of the merger of the Chamber of Commerce
Collections come to archivists in a variety of conditions and a wide range of sizes. Sometimes you are lucky--you find yourself facing a well organized, color coded filing system, complete with labels, guides, and dates. (Ok, I think you would have to be really lucky for that scenario to occur!) But more often than not, you find yourself staring down row upon row of disorganized chaos--spineless books, torn and folded papers, illegible handwriting, crumbling newspaper clippings, and the sticky residue of labels that have long since peeled away and disappeared. This is especially daunting if your collection's inventory, like ours, can best be described as "bare bones."
And so begins one of the core elements of an archivist's job--research. There are a seemingly endless amount of questions to be answered as an archivist attempts to make sense of the vast sea of records before her--everything from basic background research into an organization's history and significance to what makes up the duties of the Executive Committee to quarantine stations in New York in the 1800s to the regulation of usury laws. Since no definitive, in-depth histories of the NYCC have been written yet (which makes it especially compelling to researchers), Katie and I have had to do a lot of legwork trying to discern the story of the Chamber. Our biggest hurdle in conducting our research would have to have been figuring why we seemed to have the records of not only the NYCC but also the Merchants Association and the Commerce and Industry Association. Since the organizations were obviously similar in motive and ambition, we assumed it was only natural that each would have the publications and notices of the other; we were more confused by the fact that the NYCC collection contained so much material from the other two organizations, material that we imagined that those organizations should have wanted to keep themselves. Our confusion continued until we began coming across materials labeled, "MERGER."
And then of course, it all made sense.
It took us a while, but we were finally able to piece together a timeline for the evolution of the NYCC, up until it ceased to exist in 2002. I came up with this handy chart to explain the timeline for our presentation in November:
Mergers between the Chamber and other commercial organizations were under consideration as far back as the 1920s when the Chamber began losing members and influence. Our records indicate talk of a merger with the Commerce and Industry Association began sometime in the 1950s and continued throughout the 1960s, resulting in several extensive studies conducted by both organizations to assess the pros and cons.
Because we ended up with the records of both the NYCC and the CIA, we have documentation of the process from both sides, which I'm sure some enthusiastic research will have a fantastic time comparing.
By the time the NYCC officially merged with the New York City Partnership (a philanthropic organization formed by NYCC member David Rockefeller) to form the Partnership for New York City, the offices had long since moved out of its building on 65 Liberty Street, and its membership and administration had severely dwindled. The organization lived out its twilight years functioning more like a typical civic organization; long gone were the days of the Chamber's power and prestige.
And so begins one of the core elements of an archivist's job--research. There are a seemingly endless amount of questions to be answered as an archivist attempts to make sense of the vast sea of records before her--everything from basic background research into an organization's history and significance to what makes up the duties of the Executive Committee to quarantine stations in New York in the 1800s to the regulation of usury laws. Since no definitive, in-depth histories of the NYCC have been written yet (which makes it especially compelling to researchers), Katie and I have had to do a lot of legwork trying to discern the story of the Chamber. Our biggest hurdle in conducting our research would have to have been figuring why we seemed to have the records of not only the NYCC but also the Merchants Association and the Commerce and Industry Association. Since the organizations were obviously similar in motive and ambition, we assumed it was only natural that each would have the publications and notices of the other; we were more confused by the fact that the NYCC collection contained so much material from the other two organizations, material that we imagined that those organizations should have wanted to keep themselves. Our confusion continued until we began coming across materials labeled, "MERGER."
And then of course, it all made sense.
It took us a while, but we were finally able to piece together a timeline for the evolution of the NYCC, up until it ceased to exist in 2002. I came up with this handy chart to explain the timeline for our presentation in November:
Mergers between the Chamber and other commercial organizations were under consideration as far back as the 1920s when the Chamber began losing members and influence. Our records indicate talk of a merger with the Commerce and Industry Association began sometime in the 1950s and continued throughout the 1960s, resulting in several extensive studies conducted by both organizations to assess the pros and cons.
Because we ended up with the records of both the NYCC and the CIA, we have documentation of the process from both sides, which I'm sure some enthusiastic research will have a fantastic time comparing.
By the time the NYCC officially merged with the New York City Partnership (a philanthropic organization formed by NYCC member David Rockefeller) to form the Partnership for New York City, the offices had long since moved out of its building on 65 Liberty Street, and its membership and administration had severely dwindled. The organization lived out its twilight years functioning more like a typical civic organization; long gone were the days of the Chamber's power and prestige.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Crossing Disciplines . . . Or, Reaching Across the Aisle
I will admit it--I am a bit jealous of the librarians at NYPL! Why? Because they get to participate in a really cool video series called Design by the Book. It is a collaboration with a well known, New York based, design blog called Design*Sponge which invites New York artists to view books and special collections at NYPL and use those materials as inspiration for new works. The third part of the series was recently released (I think there will be five episodes), and I highly recommend checking it out.
I was particularly delighted by something mentioned by one of the artists (you can catch it around the 5:00 minute mark). She said that the librarian who showed her items from NYPL's map collection remarked to her that maps are where art meet science--something that is immediately evident to anyone who has had the pleasure of viewing any old printed or hand drawn maps. I was really struck by that observation because that is precisely one of the things that prompted me to start this blog--that special collections, archival collections, rare books, etc., are not just noteworthy for their content necessarily, although that is of course a huge and valid aspect of their draw. They are also remarkable for their aesthetic qualities because many of these materials are designed/produced/printed/presented in ways that are no longer common. You can read some of my past entries to see what I mean. Librarians and archivists are always looking for ways to attract new researchers to use their institution's collections--that's why the hot topic at libraries and archives everywhere is Web 2.0 technologies. However, I think one mistake is that people in our profession sometimes seem to assume that the only people who would be interested in these materials are the standard academic researcher; there seems to me to be not much outreach to potential researchers who may fall outside of that scope--visual artists, designers, marketing professionals, activists, fashion editors, and who knows who else. I think this is a shame because we have so much to offer! I am continually amazed at the things I have found just in the NYCC collection alone. Hopefully, as technology makes it easier and faster to access unique collections, more and more communities will know about and use these materials. I mean, who knew you could find something like this in the records of a Chamber of Commerce?
Anyway, I took just over a month hiatus from this blog for two reasons: 1) Vacation. 2) Have you ever tried to resume your normal routine after a 2 ½ week vacation and it just didn't work? It didn't work for me. I came back, realized the enormity of the collection, thought about all I have accomplished so far, thought about all I still have left to do, had an anxiety attack, and then decided to take another vacation! Well, kind of. I did come back and feel a bit overwhelmed by the hugeness of this project, so I decided to put my nose to the grindstone and begin tying up all the loose ends that had been bothersome lately. Then I did take another vacation--a much shorter one and kind of last minute. I ended up in Washington, DC for the inaugural weekend, along with about a zillion other out of towners. I hadn't planned on going--I was perfectly content to watch it on Jumbotron kindly provided by Columbia University on the main campus. But I ended up tagging along to DC with someone who had to work an event. Being in DC, and being an archivist, my primary interest was in seeing either the Library of Congress or the National Archives, of course. Unfortunately, due to the timing of the trip both places were closed the entire time I was there--closed on Sunday, closed on national holidays, closed for the inauguration. I was disappointed, but I did manage to take this picture out front on Sunday night:
But that was the only disappointment in an otherwise exciting weekend, where I got to be part of a historic moment rather than just archiving pieces of historic moments.
Now, back to the collection . . . One part of the project that I have been working hard to finish up is the Publications collection.
There are just over a hundred publications total in the collection; most of these probably qualify as rare, and several are in pretty bad shape physically. They reflect a wide range of subjects--histories of the Chamber, manuals on business practices, and detailed notes on the annual banquets. Once we realized how many publications were included in this collection, I knew that something different was going to have to be done to make them accessible. A list of the titles in the finding aid seemed a bit cumbersome and not so helpful, a separate finding aid seemed silly, and creating catalog records for each one seemed labor intensive and impractical. During a visit to the Avery Library to drop off some building blueprints, I learned from their curator how they manage to make collections of blueprints accessible--they create a catalog record for the collection which includes a link to a read-only spreadsheet that itemizes each blueprint. It's sort of an unconventional way of doing things--not quite a finding aid, not just a MARC record, but I think it's a stellar idea. So that's what we decided to do with our publications--create a separate record for the Publications collection which will be linked to the record for the general collection. These publications will be going off-site with the rest of the collection but they can be recalled individually just as a manuscript box can. In the end, I think it will make more sense to the researcher, make titles easier to find, and is space efficient. So, thanks Avery!
By the way, most of the smaller publications--leaflets, pamphlets, booklets, handouts--will stay with the general collection in the Printed Materials series.
That series contains all sorts of interesting finds like guides to New York City, tributes to members, and my personal favorite, "Let's Arbitrate!," a manual on arbitration. Doesn't that sound fun?
I was particularly delighted by something mentioned by one of the artists (you can catch it around the 5:00 minute mark). She said that the librarian who showed her items from NYPL's map collection remarked to her that maps are where art meet science--something that is immediately evident to anyone who has had the pleasure of viewing any old printed or hand drawn maps. I was really struck by that observation because that is precisely one of the things that prompted me to start this blog--that special collections, archival collections, rare books, etc., are not just noteworthy for their content necessarily, although that is of course a huge and valid aspect of their draw. They are also remarkable for their aesthetic qualities because many of these materials are designed/produced/printed/presented in ways that are no longer common. You can read some of my past entries to see what I mean. Librarians and archivists are always looking for ways to attract new researchers to use their institution's collections--that's why the hot topic at libraries and archives everywhere is Web 2.0 technologies. However, I think one mistake is that people in our profession sometimes seem to assume that the only people who would be interested in these materials are the standard academic researcher; there seems to me to be not much outreach to potential researchers who may fall outside of that scope--visual artists, designers, marketing professionals, activists, fashion editors, and who knows who else. I think this is a shame because we have so much to offer! I am continually amazed at the things I have found just in the NYCC collection alone. Hopefully, as technology makes it easier and faster to access unique collections, more and more communities will know about and use these materials. I mean, who knew you could find something like this in the records of a Chamber of Commerce?
Anyway, I took just over a month hiatus from this blog for two reasons: 1) Vacation. 2) Have you ever tried to resume your normal routine after a 2 ½ week vacation and it just didn't work? It didn't work for me. I came back, realized the enormity of the collection, thought about all I have accomplished so far, thought about all I still have left to do, had an anxiety attack, and then decided to take another vacation! Well, kind of. I did come back and feel a bit overwhelmed by the hugeness of this project, so I decided to put my nose to the grindstone and begin tying up all the loose ends that had been bothersome lately. Then I did take another vacation--a much shorter one and kind of last minute. I ended up in Washington, DC for the inaugural weekend, along with about a zillion other out of towners. I hadn't planned on going--I was perfectly content to watch it on Jumbotron kindly provided by Columbia University on the main campus. But I ended up tagging along to DC with someone who had to work an event. Being in DC, and being an archivist, my primary interest was in seeing either the Library of Congress or the National Archives, of course. Unfortunately, due to the timing of the trip both places were closed the entire time I was there--closed on Sunday, closed on national holidays, closed for the inauguration. I was disappointed, but I did manage to take this picture out front on Sunday night:
But that was the only disappointment in an otherwise exciting weekend, where I got to be part of a historic moment rather than just archiving pieces of historic moments.
Now, back to the collection . . . One part of the project that I have been working hard to finish up is the Publications collection.
There are just over a hundred publications total in the collection; most of these probably qualify as rare, and several are in pretty bad shape physically. They reflect a wide range of subjects--histories of the Chamber, manuals on business practices, and detailed notes on the annual banquets. Once we realized how many publications were included in this collection, I knew that something different was going to have to be done to make them accessible. A list of the titles in the finding aid seemed a bit cumbersome and not so helpful, a separate finding aid seemed silly, and creating catalog records for each one seemed labor intensive and impractical. During a visit to the Avery Library to drop off some building blueprints, I learned from their curator how they manage to make collections of blueprints accessible--they create a catalog record for the collection which includes a link to a read-only spreadsheet that itemizes each blueprint. It's sort of an unconventional way of doing things--not quite a finding aid, not just a MARC record, but I think it's a stellar idea. So that's what we decided to do with our publications--create a separate record for the Publications collection which will be linked to the record for the general collection. These publications will be going off-site with the rest of the collection but they can be recalled individually just as a manuscript box can. In the end, I think it will make more sense to the researcher, make titles easier to find, and is space efficient. So, thanks Avery!
By the way, most of the smaller publications--leaflets, pamphlets, booklets, handouts--will stay with the general collection in the Printed Materials series.
That series contains all sorts of interesting finds like guides to New York City, tributes to members, and my personal favorite, "Let's Arbitrate!," a manual on arbitration. Doesn't that sound fun?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Ephemera
As I reported last time, I finally unearthed the stash of medals that were donated along with this collection. Many of these medals were made by Tiffany & Co., the company famous for both its little blue box and because of . . . that movie. You know which one I'm talking about.
You may remember from this post that Tiffany was a member of the Chamber and also designed many of their invitations in the early 20th century.
Anyway, as an early holiday treat, here's a look at some of my favorites. This one, made by Tiffany, commemorates the opening of the NYC subway in 1902, which the Chamber was an instrumental proponent of--I think the front was meant to be personalized:
This one, also by Tiffany, commemorates the opening ceremony of the NYCC's building on 65 Liberty Street in lower Manhattan:
This is some sort of acknowledgment of the New York Stock Exchange, though I don't know when it was made or what it was for exactly:
Most of these medals are engraved with the name of their maker, but only a few are still housed in their original box. The Tiffany medals sit in a velvet bed and the lining seems like silk:
And one last medal, from the Paris Chamber of Commerce:
I apologize for the spotty photo quality--it has been a rather busy couple of weeks! Does anyone else think its weird that people used to make commemorative medals all of the time? Does anyone still do this?
I will be on vacation for the next couple of weeks, so no more posts until the new year. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Beginning of the End
In lieu of a lengthy blog post today, I am posting this short post just to mark the occasion--today, we received our final 9 record cartons of unprocessed material from off site storage! Needless to say, we are very excited. We have been processing like mad all week in an attempt to get as much done as possible before the holidays, and we've made a lot of progress just in this past week. So I think we deserve a little pat on the back!
We did a quick survey of the new boxes this morning and finally found all the medals I remember seeing, way back at the beginning of the project. I'll try to post some pictures of some of the medals soon. At least two of them were made by Tiffany & Co., one marks the opening of the new Chamber building in 1902, and one marks the opening of the NYC subway (of which the Chamber was a major proponent). It was a very cool Friday morning discovery!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Presentations and Portraits
The Researching New York 2008 conference was last Thursday, so Katie and I finally had our conference debut. It was kind of a whirlwind of a day--train to Albany early in the morning, quick lunch and registration at SUNY Albany, hour and a half presentation and panel discussion, and then right back to Manhattan so Katie could make it to class that evening.
Overall, it was a very good experience, and our audience responded well to the presentation with questions and interest and compliments. Our session was on "Records of Business" and we shared the stage with a woman from the Schoharie Crossing State Historic Site who gave a presentation on 19th century ledger books from canal stores. It was striking when the moderator noted the difference in size between our collections--we began our project with over 300 boxes and her focus was on four ledger books. Of course, this meant that the scope of our presentation was much broader (not only do we have a large quantity of material, that material spans two centuries of history), while she was able to narrow in on more detail. I think it provided a nice contrast for our audience.
One of the cool things about presenting in Albany was that a curator from the New York State Museum was in attendance. Prior to the conference, we had emailed back and forth concerning the NYCC's portrait collection which was donated the NYS Museum at the same time that Columbia acquired the NYCC's paper records. Before the NYCC moved out of their home on 65 Liberty Street,
these portraits were hung in the Chamber building's Great Hall:
We didn't have time to check out the portrait collection in person while we were in Albany, but lucky for us and everyone, you can view digital images of most of the portraits online. We do have several pamphlets in our records detailing the history of the Great Hall and some of its most famous portraits.
According to a NYCC pamphlet, the hall was, "notable for its grandeur and rich detail . . . designed along lines similar to the early Guild Halls of London." Its main use was for member meetings and receptions. Because of the Chamber's many prestigious members and industry influence, many of those meetings and receptions welcomed distinguished guests, such as Edward, Prince of Wales, French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, President Dwight D. Eisenhower, and Frank Lloyd Wright.
Katie and I are still dying with curiosity to know what the Great Hall looks like now, especially since we know the portraits aren't there anymore. There are so many amazing historical building in New York, its frustrating that many of them aren't open to the public. Maybe one year the Chamber building will make it on the list for the openhousenewyork weekend and we can finally get a look inside.
Have a great holiday!
Overall, it was a very good experience, and our audience responded well to the presentation with questions and interest and compliments. Our session was on "Records of Business" and we shared the stage with a woman from the Schoharie Crossing State Historic Site who gave a presentation on 19th century ledger books from canal stores. It was striking when the moderator noted the difference in size between our collections--we began our project with over 300 boxes and her focus was on four ledger books. Of course, this meant that the scope of our presentation was much broader (not only do we have a large quantity of material, that material spans two centuries of history), while she was able to narrow in on more detail. I think it provided a nice contrast for our audience.
One of the cool things about presenting in Albany was that a curator from the New York State Museum was in attendance. Prior to the conference, we had emailed back and forth concerning the NYCC's portrait collection which was donated the NYS Museum at the same time that Columbia acquired the NYCC's paper records. Before the NYCC moved out of their home on 65 Liberty Street,
these portraits were hung in the Chamber building's Great Hall:
We didn't have time to check out the portrait collection in person while we were in Albany, but lucky for us and everyone, you can view digital images of most of the portraits online. We do have several pamphlets in our records detailing the history of the Great Hall and some of its most famous portraits.
According to a NYCC pamphlet, the hall was, "notable for its grandeur and rich detail . . . designed along lines similar to the early Guild Halls of London." Its main use was for member meetings and receptions. Because of the Chamber's many prestigious members and industry influence, many of those meetings and receptions welcomed distinguished guests, such as Edward, Prince of Wales, French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau, President Dwight D. Eisenhower, and Frank Lloyd Wright.
Katie and I are still dying with curiosity to know what the Great Hall looks like now, especially since we know the portraits aren't there anymore. There are so many amazing historical building in New York, its frustrating that many of them aren't open to the public. Maybe one year the Chamber building will make it on the list for the openhousenewyork weekend and we can finally get a look inside.
Have a great holiday!
Monday, November 10, 2008
From Albany to Buffalo
I have realized that one major thing that I have neglected to write about here is how involved the NYCC was in the development of not only New York City, but New York State as well. Its members were instrumental in the realization of several key initiatives in the region - including the Erie Canal.
I was reminded of this last week when I read this article about how commercial shipping is returning to the Erie Canal, albeit slowly. The Erie Canal was first mentioned in the Chamber’s minutes of 1786, and the Chamber later issued a pamphlet expounding the advantages of the Canal. DeWitt Clinton, governor of New York at the time, was a member of the Chamber.
The Canal officially opened in 1825, after 7 years of construction, connecting Albany to Buffalo and allowing shippers to continue south to New York City on the Hudson River, thus sealing NYC's fate as the commercial center of the nation. The website for New York State Canals quotes Clinton as saying, "The city will, in the course of time, become the granary of the world, the emporium of commerce, the seat of manufactures, the focus of great moneyed operations. And before the revolution of a century, the whole island of Manhattan, covered with inhabitants and replenished with a dense population, will constitute one vast city.”
Here is a stereoscopic image of the Erie Canal from 1869, found in the NYCC collection:
The article doesn't mention the NYCC, nor does the Wikipedia article (though we may fix that). I think this illustrates how little researchers really know or understand about how fundamental this organization was to the history of New York.
But that will soon change! Processing is on track and progressing with lightning speed. We are currently working our way through an enormous amount of committee minutes, reports, and records.
In the meantime, you can relive your childhood music class and download an MP3 of "The Erie Canal Song (Low Bridge, Everybody Down)" which pretty much encompassed the entirety of my knowledge of the Erie Canal and New York cities as a kid. I'm sure you are familiar with it, although Katie claims to have never been taught this song in music class (why not, California State Board of Education?). Apparently the Dady Brothers love the Erie Canal enough to record an entire album devoted to it.
On a completely unrelated, non-archives note, last week was a great week to live in New York City. We cheered determined runners in the 2008 NYC Marathon which passed through my neighborhood in Brooklyn:
And we celebrated our country in homes, restaurants, bars, and the streets. This is the crowd that I walked my bike through on my way home Tuesday night:
Enjoy your week, in New York City and everywhere else!
I was reminded of this last week when I read this article about how commercial shipping is returning to the Erie Canal, albeit slowly. The Erie Canal was first mentioned in the Chamber’s minutes of 1786, and the Chamber later issued a pamphlet expounding the advantages of the Canal. DeWitt Clinton, governor of New York at the time, was a member of the Chamber.
The Canal officially opened in 1825, after 7 years of construction, connecting Albany to Buffalo and allowing shippers to continue south to New York City on the Hudson River, thus sealing NYC's fate as the commercial center of the nation. The website for New York State Canals quotes Clinton as saying, "The city will, in the course of time, become the granary of the world, the emporium of commerce, the seat of manufactures, the focus of great moneyed operations. And before the revolution of a century, the whole island of Manhattan, covered with inhabitants and replenished with a dense population, will constitute one vast city.”
Here is a stereoscopic image of the Erie Canal from 1869, found in the NYCC collection:
The article doesn't mention the NYCC, nor does the Wikipedia article (though we may fix that). I think this illustrates how little researchers really know or understand about how fundamental this organization was to the history of New York.
But that will soon change! Processing is on track and progressing with lightning speed. We are currently working our way through an enormous amount of committee minutes, reports, and records.
In the meantime, you can relive your childhood music class and download an MP3 of "The Erie Canal Song (Low Bridge, Everybody Down)" which pretty much encompassed the entirety of my knowledge of the Erie Canal and New York cities as a kid. I'm sure you are familiar with it, although Katie claims to have never been taught this song in music class (why not, California State Board of Education?). Apparently the Dady Brothers love the Erie Canal enough to record an entire album devoted to it.
On a completely unrelated, non-archives note, last week was a great week to live in New York City. We cheered determined runners in the 2008 NYC Marathon which passed through my neighborhood in Brooklyn:
And we celebrated our country in homes, restaurants, bars, and the streets. This is the crowd that I walked my bike through on my way home Tuesday night:
Enjoy your week, in New York City and everywhere else!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
"Navigating the Air"
As I've said before, a really great way to get a feel of an individual's papers or an organization's records is to begin combing through correspondence files. In the case of an individual's correspondence, it is a chance to "hear" the person's voice in an intimate way that may not come through in that person's professional or public writing. In the case of an organization's correspondence files, it gives you a glimpse of the day to day routines and encounters of the administration and staff.
Last post, I mentioned that Katie and I had just uncovered a whole slew of "re-organized" correspondence files. Although many of these letters have proved to be interesting and important, so far my favorite find is this letter from J.F. Cameron (unsure if that's a correct interpretation of the handwritten signature):
As you can see, this letter was sent in June 1862, which is about 40 years before the Wright brothers successfully launched their Wright Flyer. I guess its just provides further proof that there were others out there testing "aerial ships" and "flying machines" well before Orville and Wilbur began their experiments. I think its interesting that this inventor would have written to the NYCC offering a demonstration; he says that he hopes to, "carry passengers and merchandise," so presumably there lies the connection to commerce and industry. I haven't been able to find any reference to this J.F. Cameron in relation to aviation (though I realize that I may be reading the name wrong), which leads me to wonder if he either wrote this letter before he was successful in flying his aerial ship, or if his flight was just never documented. He seems pretty confident about accomplishing this flight however: "I trust you will not condemn my petition because it seems marvelous. I am prepared and fully confident to prove my assertions." You would have to assume that this guy had at least gone through some test runs, right?
I don't know what the Chamber's reaction to this epistle was--we have no record of a reply. But I am hoping that, fascinated by the possibility of "navigating the air," they at least allowed the guy to give it a try.
Have a great Halloween!
Last post, I mentioned that Katie and I had just uncovered a whole slew of "re-organized" correspondence files. Although many of these letters have proved to be interesting and important, so far my favorite find is this letter from J.F. Cameron (unsure if that's a correct interpretation of the handwritten signature):
As you can see, this letter was sent in June 1862, which is about 40 years before the Wright brothers successfully launched their Wright Flyer. I guess its just provides further proof that there were others out there testing "aerial ships" and "flying machines" well before Orville and Wilbur began their experiments. I think its interesting that this inventor would have written to the NYCC offering a demonstration; he says that he hopes to, "carry passengers and merchandise," so presumably there lies the connection to commerce and industry. I haven't been able to find any reference to this J.F. Cameron in relation to aviation (though I realize that I may be reading the name wrong), which leads me to wonder if he either wrote this letter before he was successful in flying his aerial ship, or if his flight was just never documented. He seems pretty confident about accomplishing this flight however: "I trust you will not condemn my petition because it seems marvelous. I am prepared and fully confident to prove my assertions." You would have to assume that this guy had at least gone through some test runs, right?
I don't know what the Chamber's reaction to this epistle was--we have no record of a reply. But I am hoping that, fascinated by the possibility of "navigating the air," they at least allowed the guy to give it a try.
Have a great Halloween!
Monday, October 20, 2008
"Famous People"
So, as we expected, the minute we finished putting together our presentation and resumed processing, we came across some really wonderful material that we wish we had found earlier! We've started processing some boxes labeled "Alpha Files" which have turned out to be mostly correspondence, but not just regular, boring, administrative, should-we-install-a-new-elevator-in-the-building type correspondence. No. This correspondence is all the really interesting correspondence that Katie and I have been waiting patiently to uncover since the start. This is the stuff that is going to make people say "Wow!" as often as Katie and I have been saying "Wow!" as we work our way through it (Read: a lot). Here are some of the big names: Thomas Edison. John D. Rockefeller, Jr. General William T. Sherman. Theodore Roosevelt. Et cetera, et cetera. Most of it (that we've delved into so far) ranges from the mid 1800s to the mid 1900s.
Ok, this is all pretty exciting, to say the least. But here's the bad news (and here is what points to a possibly major problem archivists may encounter while processing a collection): All of these items of correspondence were very obviously taken out of their original order. Katie and I are guessing that at some point (indicators point to the late 1960s or 1970s) someone in the Chamber of Commerce decided to comb through all of the correspondence amassed over the years and pull out all of the . . . well, really cool stuff. That person then decided to "reorganize" these correspondence files according to his/her own subject classification system. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I don’t think this person was going by any sort of standard subject classification system. This 1970s person removed all of the "cool!" correspondence from their original files, re-foldered them in (acidic) folders, slapped a subject label on them and called it a day. Maybe some of these correspondence files were originally filed by subject and that subject was retained when they were re-foldered, but who can be sure of that? Not me, and not Katie.
Ok, so in most cases, this is not such a big deal. In most cases, the folder title "Statue of Liberty, 1886" (dated added by us) is perfectly fine. It's not the job of the folder title to point out that folder contains a letter by General Sherman; instead, it’s the job of the archivist to point out in the series statement that a researcher should be aware that there are some really amazing correspondents in the correspondence files, possibly noting that Sherman is one of them. So what's the problem, you ask? The problem is that sometimes the subject title given by this well-meaning 1970s person is inaccurate or inadequate. So we have to check and make sure we correct those mistakes. This turns into a bigger problem when you come across folders with no title, or general and ridiculous titles like "Famous People." Famous according to whom? What if we go through this folder and don't find a single name we recognize? Is it that our knowledge of American History is lacking (yes, in some cases) or is it that a person that was famous in 1899 is now just an obscure footnote in history (yes, in some cases).
Anyway, to cut a long story somewhat shorter, in order to fix this mess that this 1970s person left behind, we have ended up with several correspondence folders that are merely dated, rather than given a subject title. This makes things somewhat more difficult for researchers (hint to researchers: the "1890-1899" folder is pretty impressive) but it keeps us from subjectively imposing our opinions and guesses on to this collection. It also keeps us sane.
And now since you have so patiently read through my rant against the imagined 1970s person, I'll show you some of the cool stuff:
I'll bet zillions people over the years have had stationery that reads, "From the desk of . . . " But Thomas Edison's stationery reads, "From the Laboratory of Thomas Edison." How many people have stationery like that?
Roosevelt attended the opening ceremony and banquet for the dedication of the new Chamber of Commerce building on November 11, 1902.
Since the above letter is dated November 6, 1899 I'm not sure if this means that Roosevelt also attended the Annual Banquet for 1899 or if this is a confirmation way, way in advance of the building dedication.
That's all for today, but later I'll try to get around to posting some more from the correspondence files. Have a good week!
Ok, this is all pretty exciting, to say the least. But here's the bad news (and here is what points to a possibly major problem archivists may encounter while processing a collection): All of these items of correspondence were very obviously taken out of their original order. Katie and I are guessing that at some point (indicators point to the late 1960s or 1970s) someone in the Chamber of Commerce decided to comb through all of the correspondence amassed over the years and pull out all of the . . . well, really cool stuff. That person then decided to "reorganize" these correspondence files according to his/her own subject classification system. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I don’t think this person was going by any sort of standard subject classification system. This 1970s person removed all of the "cool!" correspondence from their original files, re-foldered them in (acidic) folders, slapped a subject label on them and called it a day. Maybe some of these correspondence files were originally filed by subject and that subject was retained when they were re-foldered, but who can be sure of that? Not me, and not Katie.
Ok, so in most cases, this is not such a big deal. In most cases, the folder title "Statue of Liberty, 1886" (dated added by us) is perfectly fine. It's not the job of the folder title to point out that folder contains a letter by General Sherman; instead, it’s the job of the archivist to point out in the series statement that a researcher should be aware that there are some really amazing correspondents in the correspondence files, possibly noting that Sherman is one of them. So what's the problem, you ask? The problem is that sometimes the subject title given by this well-meaning 1970s person is inaccurate or inadequate. So we have to check and make sure we correct those mistakes. This turns into a bigger problem when you come across folders with no title, or general and ridiculous titles like "Famous People." Famous according to whom? What if we go through this folder and don't find a single name we recognize? Is it that our knowledge of American History is lacking (yes, in some cases) or is it that a person that was famous in 1899 is now just an obscure footnote in history (yes, in some cases).
Anyway, to cut a long story somewhat shorter, in order to fix this mess that this 1970s person left behind, we have ended up with several correspondence folders that are merely dated, rather than given a subject title. This makes things somewhat more difficult for researchers (hint to researchers: the "1890-1899" folder is pretty impressive) but it keeps us from subjectively imposing our opinions and guesses on to this collection. It also keeps us sane.
And now since you have so patiently read through my rant against the imagined 1970s person, I'll show you some of the cool stuff:
I'll bet zillions people over the years have had stationery that reads, "From the desk of . . . " But Thomas Edison's stationery reads, "From the Laboratory of Thomas Edison." How many people have stationery like that?
Roosevelt attended the opening ceremony and banquet for the dedication of the new Chamber of Commerce building on November 11, 1902.
Since the above letter is dated November 6, 1899 I'm not sure if this means that Roosevelt also attended the Annual Banquet for 1899 or if this is a confirmation way, way in advance of the building dedication.
That's all for today, but later I'll try to get around to posting some more from the correspondence files. Have a good week!
Friday, October 10, 2008
Researching New York 2008
As I mentioned in my last post, Katie and I haven't been as focused on processing the last couple of weeks as we usually are. I am very happy to report that we have been accepted to give a presentation on the collection at a state history conference, Researching New York: Perspectives on Empire State History, which is taking place next month in Albany. Sponsored by the State University of New York, the conference aims to bring together historians, researchers, archivists, librarians, teachers, curators, and filmmakers to engage in each other's work and research. In particular, the conference is supposed to act as a forum to highlight resources available to researchers and encourage new scholarship.
Even though the conference isn't until next month, we have to have our presentation ready for the commentator by next week. So, accordingly, we've been working like crazy on it--night and day, day and night. It's a PowerPoint, but hopefully a much more entertaining PowerPoint than typically presented--we are fortunate enough to have a fairly visually interesting collection.
So if you're interested in New York history, and if you will happen to be in Albany on November 20, check out the schedule and try to come to our presentation. If you can't make it, don't worry, you will probably see it in bits and pieces here over the next couple of months.
Even though the conference isn't until next month, we have to have our presentation ready for the commentator by next week. So, accordingly, we've been working like crazy on it--night and day, day and night. It's a PowerPoint, but hopefully a much more entertaining PowerPoint than typically presented--we are fortunate enough to have a fairly visually interesting collection.
So if you're interested in New York history, and if you will happen to be in Albany on November 20, check out the schedule and try to come to our presentation. If you can't make it, don't worry, you will probably see it in bits and pieces here over the next couple of months.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Smooth Sailing
Every once in a while an archivist will come across something completely unexpected in a collection in process. Although we've uncovered many aesthetically pleasing items in the sizable amount of NYCC boxes, we haven't seen too many items that seem strikingly out of place or unusual. Until we found this:
It was puzzling, to say the least. We found it in a box of arbitration records, as well as a mix of a few other items like photographs and building plans. We think that it is probably somehow related to one of the arbitration cases, evidence possibly. Maybe it is a game someone created? Maybe the two parties of the arbitration case acted out their dispute using toy ships, complete with toothpick sails? (There seems to be a name written on two of the wooden ships, so I think this is a distinct possibility, right?) Maybe this somehow just got accidentally mixed in with the records--maybe it was sitting on someone's desk and a secretary mindlessly packed it up with the rest of the records. We don't know the answer, but we were surprised and amused to find this little box of ships--and it’s a nice break from correspondence and committee reports.
Katie and I have been slowing down in processing as we focus momentarily on other things related to the collection--more on that later. We now have a student assistant who is dedicated specifically to helping us with the odds and ends of processing, and we are very luck to have her. So . . . we can see the end in sight! It will be so satisfying when this collection is finally accessible to the public.
It was puzzling, to say the least. We found it in a box of arbitration records, as well as a mix of a few other items like photographs and building plans. We think that it is probably somehow related to one of the arbitration cases, evidence possibly. Maybe it is a game someone created? Maybe the two parties of the arbitration case acted out their dispute using toy ships, complete with toothpick sails? (There seems to be a name written on two of the wooden ships, so I think this is a distinct possibility, right?) Maybe this somehow just got accidentally mixed in with the records--maybe it was sitting on someone's desk and a secretary mindlessly packed it up with the rest of the records. We don't know the answer, but we were surprised and amused to find this little box of ships--and it’s a nice break from correspondence and committee reports.
Katie and I have been slowing down in processing as we focus momentarily on other things related to the collection--more on that later. We now have a student assistant who is dedicated specifically to helping us with the odds and ends of processing, and we are very luck to have her. So . . . we can see the end in sight! It will be so satisfying when this collection is finally accessible to the public.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Waning Influence
As I may have mentioned before, Katie has spent a lot of time processing the paper trail of the NYCC's Committee on Arbitration. I think she knows more about commercial arbitration at this point than she ever imagined possible, or ever really wanted for that matter. In anticipation of writing the finding aid, Katie has been keeping carefully detailed notes on the history and evolution of the Committee, like any good archivist would. The Committee on Arbitration was the first established committee of the NYCC, created at the Chamber's second meeting in 1768. It was the leading advocate of New York and US arbitration laws. Over the years the Committee's influence and significance grew as it continually played a key part in settling commercial disputes between businesses, both domestically and abroad. The Committee was dissolved in 1900 upon the death of Judge Enoch Fancher, who had become largely responsible for overseeing the arbitration cases. The arbitration cause was taken up again in 1911 when NYCC member Charles Bernheimer began to agitate for the re-establishment of the Committee. Bernheimer became Chairman of the Committee, and took a very active role in promoting arbitration courts nationally and internationally. If you take a look at correspondence sent and received during Bernheimer's tenure, you will find appeals from all over the world asking for advice on how to set up a local arbitration court and requesting a copy of the Handbook and Guide to Commercial Arbitration issued by the New York Chamber of Commerce (a copy can be found in the NYCC collection).
Ok, so Katie can speak much more eloquently about all of this than I can, due to her total submersion in these records for a number of weeks--its all arbitration, all of the time! I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I will never know as much about it as her, and I've appointed her arbitration expert for the rest of this project. But I found myself thinking about the Arbitration Committee last week when I came across an article in The New York Times, "U.S. Court is Now Guiding Fewer Nations." (Yes, I read the Times a lot.) If you don't have time to read it, its abstract states, "A diminishing number of foreign courts seem to pay attention to the writings of the Supreme Court justices." The article then goes on to describe how the influence of the US court on the rest of the world's courts is waning. Several reasons are cited as possible factors in this trend, including the rise of more sophisticated courts outside of the US, the growing conservatism of the Supreme Court, and the declining popularity of the US abroad. The author then goes on to say, "Sending American ideas about the rule of law abroad has long been a source of pride." That's one of the lines that made me think of the Chamber. It is quite clear from the Chamber's correspondence and publications that their educational outreach efforts, both domestically and abroad, were a huge source of pride--not just in arbitration matters, but also in aiding other cities, towns, or states in establishing their own Chambers of Commerce. They even got an award for it:
And therein lies the source of diminishing influence--their outreach efforts were so effective that eventually their aid was no longer necessary, which is part of what has happened to the US Court. As the Times article says of the US Court, "But as constitutional courts around the world developed their own bodies of precedent and started an international judicial conversation, American influence has dropped."
Anyway, I thought it was an interesting parallel, and a good example of the many lines of research opportunities that this collection offers.
By the way, Katie, who has quickly established herself as the world's greatest assistant, has been hard at work on creating a Wikipedia page for the NYCC. Please take a look when you get a chance; it relates a lot of historical details in a clear, concise way and hopefully will give anyone who's interested a good sense of the evolution of the NYCC.
One last thing: The debate tonight is on! Watch it, talk about it, and make sure you are registered to vote. There is still time!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Governors Island: Then and Now
A couple of weekends ago, I finally got it together and managed to take a trip over to Governors Island. I've wanted to do this since I first moved to NYC, but as they say, "the best-laid plans of mice and men/often go awry." If you don't live in New York, or even if you do, you may not be familiar with Governors Island, although its profile has been rising in recent years as it gains popularity. The New York Times just published an article about it, extolling it as, "a place rich with history and surprises." For most of the last two centuries it was home to a military base and owned by the federal government. It was sold to New York for $1 in 2003, and is now a haven for bike riders, picnickers, history buffs, and anyone who just needs to get away from the noise of the city. It's quite small--you can bike around it in about 15 minutes or so, and then you are free to spend the rest of your trip eating your packed lunch, wandering around the eerily uninhabited island, peeking into windows, and jiggling the handles of locked doors. If you haven't been, I would imagine that autumn will be an ideal time to be there, what with all the trees, falling leaves, and sprawling lawns. As the Times article notes, it really does look and feel like you are on the grounds of a New England college campus. I think this photograph by Hiroko Masuike for The New York Times proves that point:
Also, it’s a great place to get a close up view of one of Olafur Eliasson's "New York City Waterfalls" (which, frankly, I think are overrated, but to each her own I guess).
With memories of Governors Island fresh in my mind, I was pleasantly surprised to come across this 1912 missive from the NYCC to US Secretary of War:
I particularly like this line:
"The argument is that there is more wealth concentrated upon the lower end of Manhattan Island than probably anywhere else in the world, and the presence of the regular army at Governor's Island is an enormous protection of these vast property interests against possible riot, insurrection and other troubles."
That sounds like it could be hyperbole, and considering recent news, the current state of the economic power of the US, the falling value of the dollar, etc., I'm not so sure that argument would fly today in terms of an international scope, although certainly there is still an enormous amount of wealth concentrated in downtown Manhattan. On the other hand, in light of the attack on the World Trade Center and other terrorist activities in New York and around the rest of the world, it seems likely that there are people in this day and age who might get behind the NYCC's argument to have the military close by. At any rate, reading that letter reminded me of something I came across a while back. Consider these statistics on banking and money distribution, taken from a page in the NYCC Annual Report for 1909-1910, which provides good evidence for the reasoning behind the above quote:
The disparity between New York City and the rest of the country is quite striking, no? I'm curious about what those statistics would be nowadays, but that's a question I'll save for my reference librarian colleagues.
Anyway . . . that was then, and this is now, and now Governors Island is just a great place to relax on a weekend afternoon. It won't cost you anything to get there--the ferry to the island is free--so the only money you'd spend would be on your picnic lunch. So plan your visit now, New Yorkers, because soon it will be winter and too cold to enjoy it.
Who knows, this could be you:
Also, it’s a great place to get a close up view of one of Olafur Eliasson's "New York City Waterfalls" (which, frankly, I think are overrated, but to each her own I guess).
With memories of Governors Island fresh in my mind, I was pleasantly surprised to come across this 1912 missive from the NYCC to US Secretary of War:
I particularly like this line:
"The argument is that there is more wealth concentrated upon the lower end of Manhattan Island than probably anywhere else in the world, and the presence of the regular army at Governor's Island is an enormous protection of these vast property interests against possible riot, insurrection and other troubles."
That sounds like it could be hyperbole, and considering recent news, the current state of the economic power of the US, the falling value of the dollar, etc., I'm not so sure that argument would fly today in terms of an international scope, although certainly there is still an enormous amount of wealth concentrated in downtown Manhattan. On the other hand, in light of the attack on the World Trade Center and other terrorist activities in New York and around the rest of the world, it seems likely that there are people in this day and age who might get behind the NYCC's argument to have the military close by. At any rate, reading that letter reminded me of something I came across a while back. Consider these statistics on banking and money distribution, taken from a page in the NYCC Annual Report for 1909-1910, which provides good evidence for the reasoning behind the above quote:
The disparity between New York City and the rest of the country is quite striking, no? I'm curious about what those statistics would be nowadays, but that's a question I'll save for my reference librarian colleagues.
Anyway . . . that was then, and this is now, and now Governors Island is just a great place to relax on a weekend afternoon. It won't cost you anything to get there--the ferry to the island is free--so the only money you'd spend would be on your picnic lunch. So plan your visit now, New Yorkers, because soon it will be winter and too cold to enjoy it.
Who knows, this could be you:
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Remembrance of Things Past
As far as research value goes, I would say that the NYCC meeting minutes are pretty much the star of the show. There are two main groups of meeting minutes for the Chamber--the committees meeting minutes and the regular meeting minutes.
First, there are the committees meeting minute books. We've come across 14 volumes of committee meeting minute bound volumes so far, a complete set from 1864 to 1973. Though the majority of the volumes are dedicated to the meetings of the Executive Committee, there are some other standing committees minutes interspersed in several of the volumes. Even without the minutes of the standing committees, the minutes of the Executive Committee should prove to be a research gem. The Executive Committee was made up of an elected Chairman and the Chairmen of each standing committee; the Chamber President, the Executive Secretary, the Senior Vice President, the Treasurer, the Assistant Treasurer, and 9 members-at-large. These gentlemen were entrusted with managing the affairs of the NYCC; they were the movers and shakers of the organization. A researcher may wish to consult them in hope of getting a clearer understanding of the Chamber's overarching vision and goals. Most of the meeting minutes contain reports from each of the chairmen of the standing committees--of which there were quite a few over the years--which were formed in order to address specific issues of particular concern to the chamber.
The second main group of minute books record the minutes of the "regular" meetings (yes, that's how they are referred to by the Chamber). Supposedly, this collection holds a complete run of the regular meeting minutes from the very first meeting in 1768 up until 1979 when the Chamber merged with the Partnership for New York City. Since we still have about 40 boxes to comb through, I have yet to determine if that is actually true, but so far we have found a complete set from 1768 to 1933. These are recorded in 18 leather bound volumes, all of which are . . . large . . . heavy . . . dusty . . . and occasionally experiencing cases of proverbial red rot. I suspect minutes from the remaining years may be tucked away in folders or binders, rather than bound volumes, but as I said, that remains to be seen.
At this point, you may be wondering what a bound volume of meeting minutes from 1768 looks like, so here's a visual for you:
Yeah, I know, it seems like it has been through a lot. The inside is beautiful though:
You have here every detail of every monthly meeting AND annual meeting AND special meeting held by the Chamber of Commerce. The Who, What, When, and Where of it all, painstakingly handwritten in a lovely ink scrawl. Year to year, these books manage to maintain their great size, weight, and dusty accumulation, but the insides reveal a gradual change in style. Compare the above 1768 volume to this one which begins in 1868, one hundred years later:
Now, take a look at this one from 1968, another hundred years later:
Kind of boring in comparison, right? I think this is an interesting point to bring up because now that we are in the age of the personal computer (and beyond actually--these days, its more like the age of the personal hand-held device), typewriters have become romanticized icons of the past, one of those things people think of as they long for the way the world used to be--a time of simpler things, a slower pace, more focus, less noise (except for the sound of those keys clacking, I guess). But I am willing to bet that in 1968 someone was sitting around thinking the same thing about pen and ink. And I have to say, I agree with you, fictionalized person from 1968. I, too, long for those simple times of quill and blotter, those days of high marks for good penmanship, those stylized flourishes on the page that evince extra effort and dedication and care and pride. I am by no means a Luddite . . . I enjoy my laptop and streaming video and mp3 player as much as any NYC subway rider, but I do tend towards a romantic vision of the past. I do own a vintage typewriter, a 30 pound behemoth which I lugged from Texas to New York because it is the best gift I've ever been given and I like the look of it and the idea of it and its significance of things old and forgotten and world weary. Signifying slowness. Deliberateness. Confidence. (Those keys require more than a gentle tap.)
Anyway, this is turning into a rambling tangent, but I bring it up because I think its something interesting to consider as we in the present continually create our own body of documentation. I wonder if in the future the art of writing will only be considered in terms of its intellectual content, without noting the visual and physical aspect of writing, simply because that won't exist any more--corrections, additions, notes in the margins, explanatory drawings, impromptu diagrams, color coding, hand drawn decorative borders, tangible enclosures--when you are typing an email, embellishments come in the form of digital attachments, hyperlinks, and maybe an emoticon or two, but that's about it. If you were to donate your papers to an archival institution, what would they look like? And does that even matter?
First, there are the committees meeting minute books. We've come across 14 volumes of committee meeting minute bound volumes so far, a complete set from 1864 to 1973. Though the majority of the volumes are dedicated to the meetings of the Executive Committee, there are some other standing committees minutes interspersed in several of the volumes. Even without the minutes of the standing committees, the minutes of the Executive Committee should prove to be a research gem. The Executive Committee was made up of an elected Chairman and the Chairmen of each standing committee; the Chamber President, the Executive Secretary, the Senior Vice President, the Treasurer, the Assistant Treasurer, and 9 members-at-large. These gentlemen were entrusted with managing the affairs of the NYCC; they were the movers and shakers of the organization. A researcher may wish to consult them in hope of getting a clearer understanding of the Chamber's overarching vision and goals. Most of the meeting minutes contain reports from each of the chairmen of the standing committees--of which there were quite a few over the years--which were formed in order to address specific issues of particular concern to the chamber.
The second main group of minute books record the minutes of the "regular" meetings (yes, that's how they are referred to by the Chamber). Supposedly, this collection holds a complete run of the regular meeting minutes from the very first meeting in 1768 up until 1979 when the Chamber merged with the Partnership for New York City. Since we still have about 40 boxes to comb through, I have yet to determine if that is actually true, but so far we have found a complete set from 1768 to 1933. These are recorded in 18 leather bound volumes, all of which are . . . large . . . heavy . . . dusty . . . and occasionally experiencing cases of proverbial red rot. I suspect minutes from the remaining years may be tucked away in folders or binders, rather than bound volumes, but as I said, that remains to be seen.
At this point, you may be wondering what a bound volume of meeting minutes from 1768 looks like, so here's a visual for you:
Yeah, I know, it seems like it has been through a lot. The inside is beautiful though:
You have here every detail of every monthly meeting AND annual meeting AND special meeting held by the Chamber of Commerce. The Who, What, When, and Where of it all, painstakingly handwritten in a lovely ink scrawl. Year to year, these books manage to maintain their great size, weight, and dusty accumulation, but the insides reveal a gradual change in style. Compare the above 1768 volume to this one which begins in 1868, one hundred years later:
Now, take a look at this one from 1968, another hundred years later:
Kind of boring in comparison, right? I think this is an interesting point to bring up because now that we are in the age of the personal computer (and beyond actually--these days, its more like the age of the personal hand-held device), typewriters have become romanticized icons of the past, one of those things people think of as they long for the way the world used to be--a time of simpler things, a slower pace, more focus, less noise (except for the sound of those keys clacking, I guess). But I am willing to bet that in 1968 someone was sitting around thinking the same thing about pen and ink. And I have to say, I agree with you, fictionalized person from 1968. I, too, long for those simple times of quill and blotter, those days of high marks for good penmanship, those stylized flourishes on the page that evince extra effort and dedication and care and pride. I am by no means a Luddite . . . I enjoy my laptop and streaming video and mp3 player as much as any NYC subway rider, but I do tend towards a romantic vision of the past. I do own a vintage typewriter, a 30 pound behemoth which I lugged from Texas to New York because it is the best gift I've ever been given and I like the look of it and the idea of it and its significance of things old and forgotten and world weary. Signifying slowness. Deliberateness. Confidence. (Those keys require more than a gentle tap.)
Anyway, this is turning into a rambling tangent, but I bring it up because I think its something interesting to consider as we in the present continually create our own body of documentation. I wonder if in the future the art of writing will only be considered in terms of its intellectual content, without noting the visual and physical aspect of writing, simply because that won't exist any more--corrections, additions, notes in the margins, explanatory drawings, impromptu diagrams, color coding, hand drawn decorative borders, tangible enclosures--when you are typing an email, embellishments come in the form of digital attachments, hyperlinks, and maybe an emoticon or two, but that's about it. If you were to donate your papers to an archival institution, what would they look like? And does that even matter?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A Room with a View
The name of this blog, "Notes from 2M11" refers to the room number of our office (I guess it also refers, in embarrassing cliché, to Notes from Underground, but that's so sadly first year English major, that I'm hiding it in parentheses). Although the RBML is on the 6th floor of Butler Library, Katie and I occupy this "satellite" location on the second floor mezzanine.
We are lucky. We have a window which we stare moodily out of when the sun is shining in a cloudless blue sky, watching Columbia students blithely enjoying their young lives. We can listen to NPR and shout at the inanity of commentators without bothering neighbors or students or passersby. We have quite a bit of floor space which is generally unheard of in this profession. We don't have luxuries like desk drawers or supply closets or water coolers, but we are content nonetheless.
Anyway, last week Katie and I came to a realization that if we didn't act soon, our office was going to be overrun. Archival boxes were piling up, spreading across shelves and desks like kudzu.
Exhibit A (in which you can catch a glimpse of our window):
Exhibit B (which kind of scares me, frankly):
So we assessed the situation, considered our resources, and then did what any similarly space squeezed archivist would do--we created a makeshift processing table in the middle of the room out of record carton boxes:
This mini-desk gave us just enough space to organize, reorganize, label, and barcode our "processed" manuscript boxes so we can send them off to off-site storage. We are at what is kind of the mid point of our processing. We've gone through almost 200 boxes of materials, and most of those almost 200 have been weeded, re-foldered, temporarily labeled, re-housed in archival manuscript boxes, and recorded on our work-in-progress finding aid. We still have quite a bit of work to do with this collection, but for now, clearing out about 80 MS boxes was quite a relief. So hurray for accomplishments, and hopefully we can repeat this send off again sometime soon.
We are lucky. We have a window which we stare moodily out of when the sun is shining in a cloudless blue sky, watching Columbia students blithely enjoying their young lives. We can listen to NPR and shout at the inanity of commentators without bothering neighbors or students or passersby. We have quite a bit of floor space which is generally unheard of in this profession. We don't have luxuries like desk drawers or supply closets or water coolers, but we are content nonetheless.
Anyway, last week Katie and I came to a realization that if we didn't act soon, our office was going to be overrun. Archival boxes were piling up, spreading across shelves and desks like kudzu.
Exhibit A (in which you can catch a glimpse of our window):
Exhibit B (which kind of scares me, frankly):
So we assessed the situation, considered our resources, and then did what any similarly space squeezed archivist would do--we created a makeshift processing table in the middle of the room out of record carton boxes:
This mini-desk gave us just enough space to organize, reorganize, label, and barcode our "processed" manuscript boxes so we can send them off to off-site storage. We are at what is kind of the mid point of our processing. We've gone through almost 200 boxes of materials, and most of those almost 200 have been weeded, re-foldered, temporarily labeled, re-housed in archival manuscript boxes, and recorded on our work-in-progress finding aid. We still have quite a bit of work to do with this collection, but for now, clearing out about 80 MS boxes was quite a relief. So hurray for accomplishments, and hopefully we can repeat this send off again sometime soon.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Discards: A Love Story
Like many archivists, one of my favorite aspects of the job is throwing stuff away. The thrill of throwing out bags and bags and boxes and boxes of discards never quite fades. Its like that satisfactory feeling you get from cleaning out the garage or your closet. Here's a look at the discards that Katie and I have amassed during processing over the last week or so (two and a half bags of paper, one record carton of binders and bound volumes):
Ok, so most people that are not familiar with processing or archives are horrified by this. "But it's from the turn of the century!" they say. Or, "But look how pretty the design is!" Or, "What if it has some undiscovered research value?" they ask. So I then ask them to consider this: If you are a researcher and you are interested in using an archival collection that amounts to over 300 manuscript and oversized boxes, and you aren't quite sure what you are looking for or which materials are going to be useful to your research, will you be happy to know that every folder you search through contains an inordinate amount of duplicated material? Would you want to wade through countless daily memos that a secretary sent to the Vice President in 1912 that relates mundane information such as a meeting was cancelled or the location changed or an interview has been rescheduled? Would you like to open a box that should contain information related to an important conference, only to find that all of the folders are filled with receipts related to the catering of the conference? No, of course not. Most likely, you would be looking for information on the content presented in the conference, the attendees or speakers, speeches given, resolutions made, etc. So that's the stuff that we save, folder, box, and describe in our finding aids. The receipts however, are thrown out with much glee and satisfaction.
The Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Columbia, like most institutions with archival holdings, has a processing guide for its archivists which specifies record retention guidelines that follow best practice procedures established by the archival profession. (It seems that there will always be some disagreement in this profession as to what should be saved and what should be thrown out, and I imagine that each institution's retention guidelines vary according to its own interests.) So don't worry, we aren't just randomly throwing out materials according to our own personal whims. Sometimes, we do tend to get a bit sentimental about things we are discarding, as I did when I came across these slim, smart looking bank account books the other day:
They date from the 1880s, are really lovely light tan leather, and feel not unlike a moleskine notebook in your hand. But, although it seems from the writing on the front that they were intended to be used to keep track of special fund accounts, they are blank on the inside. Meaning they have no real research value, at least in terms of the scope of this collection. So . . . we are discarding them, albeit with a slightly heavy heart. I guess no love story is complete without some trials and tribulations.
As a side note, sometimes we do hold onto discards. If something does seem to have research value, but is not pertinent to the collection that it came with, archivists often donate it to an appropriate institution. Occasionally, if a to-be-discarded item catches someone's eye--a button, or a flier, or an odd paperback--it may be rescued by that person or hung on an office wall. I should be clear though, that this is only after an item is determined to be a discard, and archivists' professional standards hold us to an objective view in that determination process.
Ok, so most people that are not familiar with processing or archives are horrified by this. "But it's from the turn of the century!" they say. Or, "But look how pretty the design is!" Or, "What if it has some undiscovered research value?" they ask. So I then ask them to consider this: If you are a researcher and you are interested in using an archival collection that amounts to over 300 manuscript and oversized boxes, and you aren't quite sure what you are looking for or which materials are going to be useful to your research, will you be happy to know that every folder you search through contains an inordinate amount of duplicated material? Would you want to wade through countless daily memos that a secretary sent to the Vice President in 1912 that relates mundane information such as a meeting was cancelled or the location changed or an interview has been rescheduled? Would you like to open a box that should contain information related to an important conference, only to find that all of the folders are filled with receipts related to the catering of the conference? No, of course not. Most likely, you would be looking for information on the content presented in the conference, the attendees or speakers, speeches given, resolutions made, etc. So that's the stuff that we save, folder, box, and describe in our finding aids. The receipts however, are thrown out with much glee and satisfaction.
The Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Columbia, like most institutions with archival holdings, has a processing guide for its archivists which specifies record retention guidelines that follow best practice procedures established by the archival profession. (It seems that there will always be some disagreement in this profession as to what should be saved and what should be thrown out, and I imagine that each institution's retention guidelines vary according to its own interests.) So don't worry, we aren't just randomly throwing out materials according to our own personal whims. Sometimes, we do tend to get a bit sentimental about things we are discarding, as I did when I came across these slim, smart looking bank account books the other day:
They date from the 1880s, are really lovely light tan leather, and feel not unlike a moleskine notebook in your hand. But, although it seems from the writing on the front that they were intended to be used to keep track of special fund accounts, they are blank on the inside. Meaning they have no real research value, at least in terms of the scope of this collection. So . . . we are discarding them, albeit with a slightly heavy heart. I guess no love story is complete without some trials and tribulations.
As a side note, sometimes we do hold onto discards. If something does seem to have research value, but is not pertinent to the collection that it came with, archivists often donate it to an appropriate institution. Occasionally, if a to-be-discarded item catches someone's eye--a button, or a flier, or an odd paperback--it may be rescued by that person or hung on an office wall. I should be clear though, that this is only after an item is determined to be a discard, and archivists' professional standards hold us to an objective view in that determination process.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)