The Bancroft Survey Project began in February 2008. Funded by grants from the Andrew W. Mellon and the Rosalinde and Arthur Gilbert Foundations, the survey project is intended to be a simultaneously broad and in-depth survey of all manuscript holdings of the Bancroft Library, which has been collecting for over a century. Four archivists were hired to scour the collections for a three year term, during which they will review the vast myriad of manuscript materials and use a survey instrument designed to gather data on collection scope, subject categories, and physical condition. The survey archivists are Marjorie Bryer, Amy Croft, Dana Miller, and Elia Van Lith, and they are also the authors of this blog.
Surveying account books and ledgers is never very exciting. However today when I was surveying the Mokelumne Hill Canal and Mining Company account books I was surprised to come across some drawings!
I can only guess that these were done by a child of someone who worked at the mining company or who kept these books before they were acquired by the Bancroft.
Later on in the volume there are some rules and a list of officers for a club.
The rules read: Come to every meeting you can. Don't be silly. Obey orders. Keep the Promise.
Promise?
Motto: Be Merry
Now depending on what the promise is (they were smart enough not to write it down) this sounds like a fun club to be a part of!
Banc mss C-G 280, Mokelumne Hill Canal and Mining Company account books, 1854-1907
While surveying part of the Charles Collins Teague Papers today, I opened a box marked St. Francis Dam Disaster. I had never heard of the disaster in an historical or scholarly context before, but I did know the story through a pop culture reference- a 2001 song of the same name by Frank Black and the Catholics (penned by Frank Black of Pixies fame).
Southern California Edison Company construction camp near LosAngeles-VenturaCounty lines, where 145 men lost their lives.
The St. Francis Dam Disaster occurred a few minutes before midnight on March 12, 1928, when a concrete dam located 40 miles northwest of Los Angeles broke violently apart and the resulting tidal waves of water rushing to the ocean ruined towns and took hundreds of lives. Charles Teague was deeply involved with the development of agriculture in Southern California, and served as president for various companies and associations connected with the citrus industry. At the time of the St. Francis Dam Failure, Teague was Chief of the Santa Clara Water Conservation District, where the disaster took place.
View looking North on South 4th St. Santa Paula, California
According to Wikipedia, the St. Francis Dam flood killed 600 people and ranks among the worst civil engineering disasters in American history, effectively ending the career of its chief engineer, William Mulholland.
This document from the Teague papers estimates the death toll at 385 (penciled in at bottom) rather than 600.
Above are some images and a document from Teague's files on the St. Francis Dam failure, while the lyrics of the Frank Black song follow below. A google map search for the town of Piru enables one to see all of the towns mentioned in Black's lyrics; the "water master man" Black refers to is clearly Mulholland; "powerhouse #2" may refer to the Edison camp pictured in the top photo.
St. Francis Dam Disaster
Frank Black and the Catholics
There was a well known water master man
He was the king
He could do anything
The Saint Francis Dam disaster man
Thought she was all right
Until around midnight
Because that water seeks her own
She had a desire to flow
She was looking for somewhere to go
She was a slave to the great metropolis
She was feeling choked
She pushed the wall till it broke
When they heard
The great apocalypse
At power house number two
Well there was nothing they could do
Because that water seeks her own
Five and one half hours she would flow
She had fifty-three miles to go
A cascade down to Santa Clara way
Near sixty feet high
Now she's a mile wide
It was clear she was going far away
And whole towns were too
A few got lucky in Piru
Because that water seeks her own
But four more hours she would flow
She had twenty-nine miles to go
She carried in her every kind of thing
House, trees, and telegraph pole
Some say a thousand souls
At three A.M. she gave Santa Paula a ring
She was still twenty-five feet high
Under a peaceful sky
Because that water seeks her own
But two more hours she would flow
She had nineteen miles more to go
It was a real bad night in little Saticoy
El Rio then Montalvo
How many no one really knows
VenturaBeach was very scary boy
Humanity a pile
She went her final mile
Because that water seeks her own
Into the sea the water flowed
And now for forever she would go
In an interview for Blogcritics, Black quipped that he had the song for a number of years before putting lyrics to it at the urging of his bandmates, "It was a grey and windy day... lyrics are, you know, about stuff. " Black may in fact have had a grudge against Mulholland. He also penned a song in 1994 called Olé Mulholland. I may find myself perusing my Frank Black CD collection tonight when I get home to look for more historical commentary.
Some creative container labeling has happened at The Bancroft, as these three labels from the 1960s and 1970s clearly show. But before we go further, let me dispel any worries about labeling standards at Bancroft by saying that all the containers had appropriate labels as well.
The first two labels come from the Edmund G. "Pat" Brown papers (BANC MSS 68/90 c), a 1,029 carton behemoth of a collection of the papers of Pat Brown who served as Governor of California from 1959 to 1967. Despite the interesting material and the importance of the collection, while we were surveying the collection I sometimes felt we would never see the end and I imagine the archivist tasked with creating all the carton labels felt the same way, possibly typing these two labels to alleviate the monotony. The first label is funny on its own, but makes more sense when you realize that there are nearly 100 cartons of Senate and Assembly bills in the Brown collection. After 80 or 90 cartons of legislative bills, wouldn't you want them to rest in peace too?
I can't remember exactly where the second label was found so it will just have to speak for itself. And now the best for last. This third label was found stuck on a carton in the Papers on European and American printers (BANC MSS 74/150 c). I'm not sure if the person typing the label was commenting on their feelings about the subject matter of the collection or possibly aspects of the archival profession, but I'm sure all archivists can relate.
Many Californians will recognize the name Kaiser (or Kaiser-Permanente) and associate it with the health care industry giant it has become. But historically the Kaiser empire, started in 1912 by Henry J. Kaiser, was into much more than hospitals, and included a road-paving business, large-scale construction projects, shipbuilding and shipyard operation, Kaiser-Frazer automobile plants, steel mills, aluminum, chemical and cement companies, low-income housing projects, and real estate development in Hawaii.
Over the past couple months, Marjorie and I have surveyed two large collections under the Kaiser name: the papers of Henry J. Kaiser (Banc MSS 83/42; 329 cartons, 194 volumes), and those of his son Edgar F. Kaiser (Banc MSS 85/61; 500 cartons and 32 volumes).
While I tend to consider many corporate records less than thrilling, there were some surprisingly colorful finds inside these collections, if one looked deep enough.
The following images are from the Edgar F. Kaiser papers (Banc MSS 85/61, volume 25) and show a 1957 marketing proposal booklet for their automobile line that highlights potential uses of colorized aluminum for the interiors and exteriors of cars. Earlier in the 1940s and early 1950s Kaiser had teamed up with Frazer and Darrin to produce a handful of car models, stylish classics that can still occasionally be found today (look around for the Kaiser "Virginian," "Manhattan," the "Special", and my personal favorite, the "Dragon" hardtop convertible!). These cars were never made, aluminum being a questionable choice of material for this purpose-- is anyone else thinking, "What about dents?!"-- and Kaiser had ceased production in earnest around 1955.
Still, if you love mid-century modern design like I do, you'll get a kick of out some of these car designs. Note how the car models are named after different California cities and landmarks. How lovely to be driving around town in a "Piedmont..."
This is a page of sample colors and textures that could be put on the interior of the car, in such places as doors, dash, foot panel, etc.
Personally, the pink swirls and the turquoise beehive would go great with, well, nothing in my own utilitarian car, but hey a girl can dream.
Behold, the "Golden Gate," a station wagon with lots and lots of window...
The "Del Mar," roomy and zoomy- check out the space-age trunk of this metal behemoth!
And finally, the "Merced." Looks like a fun ride to me!
(Other models can be seen in this volume of the collection. The artist was not noted anywhere in the document. Part 2 to come in July.)
We have come across many cartons of unsorted newspaper clippings during the survey so far. Unfortunately, this is not a rare sight:
Normally I wouldn't look too closely at them and would just make note in our database that there were loose and bundled clippings in this carton. However, these are clippings that Hubert Howe Bancroft collected and there was one bundle in particular that caught my eye:
[labeled "Useful Items"]
I was intrigued to say the least. I decided to spend some extra time to look at this small bundle and see what Hubert Howe Bancroft thought was useful in the late 1800s. The topics ranged from new patents, scientific discoveries, and funny items. My favorite clipping is one that describes the use of the meat of potatoes as a substitute for ivory - which, as the author points out, is excellent news for elephants!
I also enjoyed reading about a trio of traveling rats....
...and I learned about the beneficial effects of wearing flannel (actually pretty relevant for the surveyors given our chilly work environment!)
Here are some others that I liked:
From Banc MSS B-C 14: Bancroft miscellaneous newspaper clippings, 1860-1890.
Hubert Howe Bancroft Middle School in Los Angeles, Calif., the "home of the cougars," was named after our very own founding father, H.H.B. And the school honors its namesake in its school song, the lyrics for which Amy and I came across when surveying the Hubert Howe Bancroft family papers, BANC MSS, 73/64. Just how the lyrics came to the Bancroft family we'll never know, but we can all be thankful they did.
It's a toss-up for my favorite lines. After all, what archivist could resist the following lyric?:
"He collected many manuscripts and worked without delay. To preserve for posterity. To preserve for posterity."
But the chorus does tug at my heartstrings:
"Oh, Bancroft, brave Bancroft, 'Twas a name known to fame in days of yore; May it ever be glorious Till the sun shall climb in the heavens no more."
A note at the bottom of the sheet says the song should be sung to the tune of "Lord Jeffrey Amherst" the fight song of Amherst College. In case you have the irrepressible urge to honor H.H.B. in song, you can get the tune by listening to "Lord Jeffrey" at http://www.amherst57.org/members/lyrics.htm. Just click on the button on the left for "Lord Jeffrey."
In 1968, Alan Cranston was elected to his first term as Senator from California. While surveying his papers (BANC MSS 88/214), we came across this humorous exchange between Groucho Marx and the new Senator.
November 7, 1968
Dear Senator: I was one of your strongest supporters and one who believed in your integrity - perhaps even manhood. I sent you a check for $25.00 so you could defeat that profane schoolteacher.
Inasmuch as you are now safely ensconced in office and Paulson has dropped out of the race, I think you would be doing a handsome deed by returning my $25.00. However, if you insist upon running again at some future date, just send me the money and I will hold it in escrow until I find out definitely what your plans are for the future. Incidentally, while you're in Washington, see if you can't incapacitate Senator Murphy.
Sincerely, Groucho Marx
P.S. This is a pretty lousy letter and, incidentally, the check I sent you wasn't too much either.
January 30, 1969
Dear Groucho:
I was relieved to learn that you believe in my integrity and my manhood, just as you will be relieved to learn that your $25.00 check, which I promptly cashed, was good.
So much for my integrity, my manhood and your twenty-five bucks.
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