A Suitcase Full of Cameras: The Travel Films of Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield

Jeanne Porterfield (l) and Lisa Chickering (r) at the editing table.
Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield Collection, Human Studies Film Archives.

The Human Studies Film Archives (HSFA) houses several types of ethnographic film, from research footage studied frame-by-frame by anthropologists to travelogues and home movies from around the world. But some of our most interesting (though little-studied) films bridge the gap between social scientists and amateurs. The travel-lecture film genre traditionally combines silent film footage with live voiceover or, in some instances, intertitles. Unlike traditional documentaries, travel lecture films were narrated in person by the filmmakers themselves. Screenings thus became more like theatrical performances, allowing filmmakers to engage directly with their audiences and tailor their presentations on the fly. Travel lecture films were usually made to showcase western European or North American tourist destinations and attracted a genteel, older audience (Ruoff). In the genre’s heyday during the 1950s-60s (though the form persists today), popular filmmakers such as Thayer Soule and Burton Holmes could make a living touring the travel lecture circuit and presenting to packed venues ranging from Kiwanis clubs to concert halls.

The collection of two of these filmmakers, Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield, is now in the HSFA. This duo began their careers almost by accident. The two young women traveled to Paris in the 1950s for a short singing gig Lisa had booked, which turned into a three-year impromptu world tour. The pair picked up an 8mm camera along the way and returned with piles of still photographs, thousands of feet of film, and a travel bug. All that was left to do was to turn their love of travel and film into a career.

Lisa and Jeanne at the Spokane Coliseum in Spokane, Washington, 1961, presenting their film Austria à la Carte to an audience of almost 8000.
Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield Collection, Human Studies Film Archives.

For two young women whose only professional experience until that point had been in modeling, acting, and singing, filmmaking was a steep learning curve. Neither even knew how to splice film at the outset of their careers, but they didn’t allow their inexperience to deter them.  As a memoir draft declares, “Why if we, or anyone, were to wait until they knew EVERYthing about a field, no one would do anything.” Lisa and Jeanne did not wait, but they did soon seem to know everything. The two not only filmed, edited, and presented their own films, but founded and ran their own production company, Viewpoints, Inc.

As two of the only women in a male-dominated field, Lisa and Jeanne fought gender-based assumptions about their abilities every step of the way. Letters to them at Viewpoints often began with “Gentlemen:,” and, in order to get face time with businessmen and funders, Lisa and Jeanne sometimes hid their true identities until the face-to-face meeting. This precaution was unfortunately prudent in an age where some small towns turned the two away from performing because of their gender (Fox). But being women was an advantage in another aspect of their work: filming. Few people expected women to be behind the camera, and so their presence surprised everyone from security guards to cowboys into allowing them to film in the middle of the action—even some places men weren’t allowed to go (Rickman).

Lisa and Jeanne were the only women in this 1972 photo of Film Lecturers' Association members.
Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield Collection, Human Studies Film Archives.

Though press clippings from the era note their talent and discipline, Lisa and Jeanne’s youth, appearance, and womanhood took center stage. Typical press clippings described them as “glamour girls” or “explorer gals,” and the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner ended an article detailing the full range of their duties and “dangerous” work with the comment, “And they still look as though they just came from the beauty parlor” (Byrne). For their part, Lisa and Jeanne focused on their work. In interview after interview, they emphasize their commitment to their work; as Lisa remarked, “People have a tendency to try and ignore me or just think, ‘She must just be some crazy woman,’ but whatever they think—I get some great footage” (Drier). 

A typical press clipping. Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield Collection, Human Studies Film Archives.

And indeed, the films that resulted from this access are thorough and charming. Like most travelogue filmmakers, Lisa and Jeanne never present themselves as experts or anthropologists. Instead, they come off as regular old travelers with a strong sense of curiosity and a can-do attitude. Their subtle humor shines through in their lecture scripts and in the footage they shot, which often breaks off from historic sites to focus on a squirming child or a playacting dog. And their footage—filmed on vibrant Kodachrome stock—is stunning. In addition to their films, the HSFA has also received several boxes of paper records (including the scripts they narrated over their silent footage) as well as a collection of about 10,000 photos and over 150,000 slides dating from their later career as travel writers and photographers. The Chickering-Porterfield collection is one to be shared and cherished as a landmark in the history of this obscure genre.

Lisa and Jeanne in Curaçao, 1961, shooting their film Caribbean Dutch Treat.
Lisa Chickering and Jeanne Porterfield Collection, Human Studies Film Archives.

Enormous thanks are due to Lisa Chickering for the donation of her and Jeanne's films, papers, and photographs, as well as to Liz Czach, associate professor at the University of Alberta, for facilitating the transfer. Liz's own research into the travel lecture film genre led her, and eventually the HSFA, to Lisa and Jeanne's collection, and we are honored to house their work as part of the Smithsonian's collections.

Annie Schweikert, Project Media Archivist
Human Studies Film Archives

Sources:

• Byrne, Bridget. “Explorer Gals Shoot Adventure Film.” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner, 25 Oct. 1973, p. B1.
• Drier, Michelle. “No One Takes Them Seriously—But in Their Business That’s an Asset!” San Jose News, 8 Oct. 1973, p. 19.
• Fox, Terry Curtis. “Tales from the Trail of the Travelog.” Chicago Daily News, 17-18 Feb. 1973, p. 5.
• Rickman, Marie. “No Hurdle Too Big for Ladies.” Journal Herald [Dayton, OH], 15 Nov. 1967, 23.
• Ruoff, Jeffrey. “Around the World in Eighty Minutes: The Travel Lecture Film.” Visual Anthropology 15, no. 1 (January-March, 2002), 91-114.

Photos and article images scanned by and courtesy of Liz Czach, University of Alberta.

The Museums of the Peaceful Arts: A Timeless Dream Detailed in a Curious Set of Scrapbooks

The charter for the Museums of the Peaceful Arts, 1914

 It’s a familiar scenario: the United States, Canada and Europe are experiencing a persistent economic downturn, widespread unemployment, labor troubles, and a general sense of restlessness and lost opportunities. What remedy exists for this bleak situation? Perhaps a major stimulus plan, with the costs being shared equally by state and local governments and a group of public-minded industrialists, bankers, and other influential members of society who firmly believe that state-of-the-art industrial education, more efficient practices, and American ingenuity can launch the nation into a new era of lasting peace and prosperity. So, are we talking about 2011? Um, no …!

Actually it was nearly 100 years ago, in June 1912, that George Frederick Kunz (1856-1932), the president of the Association for the Establishment and Maintenance for the People in the City of New York of Museums of the Peaceful Arts, stood before the attendees of the seventh annual meeting of the American Association of Museums and floated an astonishing proposal, so bold in its vision that his audience must have felt a mixture of strong hope and skepticism. Make no small plans, as the saying goes. What Kunz was proposing was the establishment in New York City of a group of twenty new museums devoted to various categories of industry and learning (for example: aviation, agriculture, health and hygiene, and architecture), clustered around a large stadium for public events, with meeting rooms and a library to serve the educational needs of children and working adults. The project was to be called the Museums of the Peaceful Arts, in acknowledgement of the long period of relative peace that existed between North America and Europe following the end of the war of 1812. As Kunz envisioned it, factories that had been devoted to armaments could be converted instead to manufacture new consumer products like laundry machines, and the garbage that accumulated in a city as large as New York could be recycled or used as fertilizer for growing crops nearby in the fields of Long Island and New Jersey. How could the world be made anew? By making it convenient for people to study examples of all kinds of industrial machinery and practices gathered together in one place, in a location tentatively set in Riverside Park, Manhattan, or near the Jerome Park Reservoir in the Bronx.

 

Newsclippings with portrait of Kunz

Kunz and the other members of the Association, which included inventors Thomas Alva Edison and Nikola Tesla and Arctic explorer Robert Peary, had put a lot of thought and research into their plans for the Museums of the Peaceful Arts. A ten-volume set of scrapbooks compiled by Kunz between 1912 and 1930, and housed today in the Dibner Library of the History of Science and Technology, is practically a gold mine for anyone interested in the methods of American museum management during this period. Kunz, a mineralogist and authority on gems who worked with Tiffany & Company and the United States Geological Survey and who had been actively involved with the programs for several world’s fairs and industrial expositions, gathered together information from the American Museum of Natural History, the Heye Foundation (Museum of the American Indian), the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Newark Museum, the American Museum of Safety, and the United States National Museum (the predecessor to the museums of the Smithsonian Institution). His scrapbooks document all aspects of creating and running a museum, from the design and construction of buildings and exhibition cases, to the acquisition and cataloging of collections, to staffing (which, as he noted, “need not be extravagant”), to educational programs and publicity materials. The scrapbooks are filled with newsclippings, photographs, blueprints, ephemera, and typed documents on all sorts of topics related to museums and industrial education.




Early 20th century children viewing a
painting,from v. 8 of the scrapbook.
Note the roller skatesdraped
over their shoulders!

 The Museums of the Peaceful Arts project was conceived as a bold vision to help solve current economic problems and boost the education level, skill, and prosperity of inhabitants in the New York City region, with the hope that the new inventions and creative synergy inspired by the Museums would lead the United States to dominance in international trade and power. But what happened to it? For a few years, a core operation to support the project, with administrative offices and a few exhibitions, was based at 24 West 40th Street in Manhattan, near the main branch of the New York Public Library and the Engineers Club. A few million dollars were raised from bequests and endowments, but nowhere near the $25,000,000 to $30,000,000 that Kunz estimated would be necessary to bring the complete vision to reality. In the 1930s, the grand plans for a 20-museum complex were finally scrapped, and for awhile, the collections that had been acquired for the Museums of the Peaceful Arts were housed at the New York Museum of Science and Industry. Eventually, the remaining endowment funds were apparently divided up between the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the American Museum of Natural History. And Kunz’s vision, so optimistic, so magnificent, for the establishment of the Museums of the Peaceful Arts withered away, leaving hardly a trace other than these scrapbooks.

In 1997, when I formally cataloged these volumes which the Smithsonian had acquired in the 1950s from New York City bookseller Dauber & Pine, I remember posting an inquiry on the Museums-L listserv asking whether anyone knew what happened to the Museums of the Peaceful Arts. The only response I received was from Steve Lubar, a fellow Smithsonian employee who was Chair of the Division of the History of Technology at the National Museum of American History. He said he recalled that the Smithsonian (or rather, the U.S. National Museum at the time) had lent some artifacts to the Museums of the Peaceful Arts which had never been returned, and he wondered what had happened to them. It’s a mystery, still.



Diagram for the Marine and Hydrographic Building

The daring plans of Kunz and his supporters to launch a massive museum complex as a way to spur economic growth, industrial progress, and the re-training and education of American workers for a golden age of peace and prosperity were dashed by a lack of funding and two world wars characterized by increasingly lethal technological innovations. However, it seems harsh to sneer at the naïveté and optimism of the project. The sense of creativity and hope inherent in the enterprise, so scrupulously detailed in these scrapbooks, are characteristic of a spirit which so many people would like to recapture today. The typescript and handwritten notes, the black and white photographs, and other materials that document the dreams, fresh ideas, and best practices of American museums in the early years of the 20th century, might perhaps be considered a forerunner of collaborative efforts in the 21st century to create a virtual community of museums, libraries and archives, accomplished not with bricks and mortar but with websites, linked data, and cross-searchable collections online (like the SIRIS and SI Collections Search catalogs!). How will our efforts look a hundred years from now? Not as fantastic as the grand design of the Museums of the Peaceful Arts, if we're lucky.



Collection of Reports, Photographs, and Other Materials Related to the Museums of the Peaceful Arts, 1912-1930 (MSS 001736 B v. 1-10 SCDIRB, Dibner Library)

Materials by and about George Frederick Kunz in the SI Collections Search Center

George Frederick Kunz Papers in the Smithsonian Institution Archives, ca. 1880-1932 and undated (a related collection)

--Diane Shaw, Special Collections Cataloger, Smithsonian Institution Libraries

Digging those girl diggers: Dispatch from a former intern

Nicole Baynard is an undergraduate at American University studying anthropology. Nicole recently completed a Reference Services internship with the National Anthropological Archives. During the course of her internship, Nicole assisted researchers in the Reading Room, answered reference questions, and worked on collection assessment projects. Nicole shares a story about the intersection of her internship and academic career.

I was eager to take a hands-on approach to my education and get involved during my sophomore year. My peers were finding their places in various government agencies and I decided that I would pursue an internship that offered more than scanning documents and running errands. After a long and trying search, I finally found my place at the National Anthropological Archives. Each week proved more interesting than the last. I was learning about different organizations that contribute to the collections at the National Anthropological Archives, notable researchers and professors, and the progression of anthropological research.

In my first few weeks of interning at the NAA, I reviewed the newspaper clippings in the River Basin Survey papers for interesting material to contribute to a future online project. I was particularly fascinated with tracing specific incidents as they played out in the most popular newspapers of the time. After sifting through several articles detailing the complications with the return of a Confederate gunboat as it moved down the Chattahoochee River, I stumbled upon an article titled “Dig these girl diggers at Old Spanish Fort.” I was instantly attracted to the article because of the intriguing Introduction to Archaeology course I had taken the previous spring. The author of the article, Tom Sellers, seemed quite astounded to discover college women participating hands-on in an archeological field school during their summer break. He claimed that the female students were “holding up as well or better than their male colleagues” as if it was unheard of to see women in the muddy ditches. As I read the article describing the excavations the students were doing under the advisement of Florida State University Professor Lewis Lawson Jr., I started contemplating what it would be like to be engaged in an archeological dig as an alternative break for school.

A few days after reading the newspaper article, I received an e-mail from my university about the opportunity to apply for an archeological dig. With the same enthusiasm I had when applying for internships, I immediately researched the program and began my application. Five days later, I received word that I was accepted to travel to Varna, Bulgaria with the Balkan Heritage Field School to spend a few weeks digging and learning at a Byzantine monastery. I was overjoyed at the prospect of yet another hands-on opening in the field of anthropology and archeology. Much like the college students from the article, Janet Turner and Mabel Shaw, I will be digging alongside of my male colleagues and attending lectures and seminars regarding the processing of archaeological finds. Although it is common to find women in the field today, I look back on Sellers’ article and imagine what it must have been like for the young women from FSU to have the opportunity to recover artifacts and break the masculine norm asserting that working in the field was a man’s job. Even though they are not the only women who dug in the 1960s, Janet and Mabel helped break the stereotype of the woman as a fragile and delicate being. They paved the way for young college students, like me, to have the opportunity to prove themselves on “tough archaeological expeditions.” I hope to embark on my journey with the same gusto and drive as the students in the 1960s.

Much like Janet and Mabel, I do not plan on becoming an archaeologist, however; taking part in an archaeological expedition for college credit is exciting. As my internship at the NAA is coming to a close, I leave with the strong belief that their unique collections and willingness to allow interns explore the many facets the Archives have to offer are beneficial to both the NAA and all who have the privilege of working for them. Because of my explorations at the Archives, I leave with a renewed passion for advancing in the field of anthropology and hope to return one day to conduct research of my own.
-Nicole Baynard

Posted by: Leanda Gahegan, Reference Archivist
National Anthropological Archives

Happy 157th Birthday Charles Lang Freer!

In celebration of Charles Lang Freer's 157th Birthday (or is it 155th?), I want to take the opportunity to highlight some of the amazing materials he left us in his papers. Many who are familiar with Charles Lang Freer know that he was an avid art collector, a philosopher on aesthetics, and a major player in the art exchange between east and west at the turn of the twentieth century.  Did you also know that Freer undertook an expedition to China to explore the Buddhist cave temples in Longmen?  This was the last of five trips Freer made to Asia before he suffered a stroke in 1911.  The materials we have that document his trip reveal an adventurer, a poet, and a rock collector!  Please read on to see what Head of Archives, David Hogge, has uncovered:

Over the last several months I’ve been cataloging the photographs of Charles Freer’s 1910 expedition to the Chinese cave temples in Longmen, an important site for early Buddhist sculpture.  In addition to the 160 photographic negatives taken by his photographer Yü Tai, Freer himself took a handful of snapshots.   The photograph to the right is Freer’s own photograph of the small temple compound in which he stayed, directly in front of the Bingyang cave complex.  

As I read through Freer’s travel journals, I discovered that in addition to the photographs and rubbings , he also brought back a load of stone objects from the site.  This concerned me, considering the appalling history of pillaging of Chinese cave sites in the 20th century.  Fortunately, Tim Kirk in Collections showed me Freer Gallery accessions F1911.551 through  F1911.589, image left; 40 smooth stones that Charles Freer apparently selected from the riverbed in front of the caves.  Not shown are the 40 custom wooden stands Freer ordered made in Beijing.

Why would Freer, a level-headed, no-nonsense businessman attach such importance to a box of nondescript river stones from such a remote location?  Reading through his journals, one is struck by how emotionally affected he was by his two weeks of isolation in the presence of the magnificent caves:

“Wild flowers and grasses sprout in crevices, water trickles down through the rock ceilings.  The fascination of being alone is ever present - no lying guides, no nosey tourists, no guide books, no legends, but the spirit of asceticism everywhere.” 

“The strange stillness and peace of Buddha makes itself felt.  Here there is no ostentation, there are no iron railings, no fences, no interference, not even a priest, for the one who belongs here is away on some personal business. ”

I have to assume that Freer was so moved by his two weeks of quiet tranquility at Longmen that he felt compelled to gather the stones as mementos of the experience.   Thanks to the folks in Freer|Sackler Collections Management for showing me these humble treasures. 
 
David Hogge | Head of Archives

****


To see more materials in the collection, please view the below introduction to the Charles Lang Freer papers.  Watch the video for collection highlights, including news clippings on the Peacock Room, photographs of Freer's travels, and correspondence with President Theodore Roosevelt.

Rachael Cristine Woody | Archivist
Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery

Proud as a Peacock

Here is a classic, and personal favorite of mine from the Charles Lang Freer papers.  Freer was meticulous in all things including his newspaper clippings; which are a treasure trove documenting current events,  providing us cultural context, and most notably, insight into Freer's character divined but what news clippings he chose to collect.  (See our youtube video on highlights of the Freer collection for more information).

We have an entire clipping book with dozens of news articles pasted to the pages documenting the sale and purchase of the Peacock Room.  At this time there were so many rumors as to who would purchase this already legendary and world renowned art work; this article provides a brief glimpse into the fervent speculation of its possible acquirement by an American corporate tycoon. However you will notice that it is not Charles Lang Freer's name on the article but instead a fellow peer in industry - J.P. Morgan who had also made himself famous with his transition from a corporate king to a fanatic art collector. There are several theories as to why Freer chose to keep secret his acquiring of the Peacock Room, but all agree he did seem to enjoy the frantic reporting and incorrect attributions.

Rachael Cristine Woody
Archivist
Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives
woodyr@si.edu

Silly Summer at the Freer|Sackler Archives

Today, I thought I’d draw your attention to some of the silly things that you can find in the Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives. Some people may think of archives as dry and boring, full of boring, old, irrelevant papers, and not much else. But this is quite far from the truth! If you spend enough time in the archives, not only do you slowly grow pale and wan, but you also find a number of amusing items. Read on for some laughs. 

Myron S. Falk Jr, ca. 1932

The above photographs are from the Pauline B. and Myron S. Falk Jr. papers.  Myron S. Falk Jr. graduated from Massachusetts Tech and began work in 1932 with the New Photomaton Corporation of Eastman Kodak Company as a sales manager of photo booth machines.  This particular folder of his life contains sketched advertisements, correspondence relaying his marketing and management ideas, and my favorite – his test pictures from the Photomaton machine.  I have attached just one of several contact sheets that have his image in various poses ranging from stoic to absurd.  Take a look and have a giggle as you remember your first job. Below I’ve included some pop-culture references that immediately came to my mind; please feel free to send your own observations to me as I would be happy to receive them.

“It’s the photo booth man from the movie Amelie!”


“Check out Myron’s fierce Tyra Banks look.”


“Now you hate the camera!”


“Was Myron considering one of these for his Facebook profile pic?”

C.L. Freer at his villa on Capri, ca. 1900 - 1903

While we remember Charles Lang Freer as our museum’s austere founder, he managed to balance his work with some play. This photo shows Freer at his villa on Capri. Joining a cult? Doing yoga? Performance art? Simply hamming it up for the camera? We may never know. 



Try not to envy Freer too much for the fact that not only did he own a villa on Capri, but he also had enough leisure time to dress up, create and put on a laurel wreath, and then photograph himself while doing so.


Who do you think Freer sent this to?


This photograph is part of the Charles Lang Freer papers, Series 12 Photographs, currently being digitized to be made available online soon!

And last but not least, art was not Freer’s only hobby -- he was also quite the skilled animal trainer! Oh, the things you learn in an archives. Please note the drawing caption: "I found myself in the unique position of caddy." For some odd reason, I have a feeling that that wasn't the least of Freer's worries!

Have a fantastic rest of your summer!

--Rachael Cristine Woody and Beatrice Kelly, Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives

Ernst Herzfeld's Excavation of Samarra - Online!

Series 7: Records of Samarra Expeditions is now fully digitized, cataloged and online thanks to funding from the Leon Levy Foundation, and cataloger extraordinaire: Xavier Courouble!  Below is a description of the Ernst Herzfeld's Samarra materials written by Thomas Leisten, as well as a final report by Xavier, documenting his cataloging efforts for a project of this scope.

Ernst Herzfeld Papers, Series 7: Records of Samarra Expeditions, 1906-1945: Field notes 186 items : drawings, sketches, sketchbooks, correspondence, notebooks, photographs, blueprints, notes, diaries, prints, journals (accounts), publications, articles, clippings, rubbings.

"Two campaigns of excavation at Samarra in Iraq, carried out by Ernst Herzfeld on behalf of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin between the years 1911 and 1913 mark the beginning of large-scale archaeological research on Islamic antiquities. During this time, Herzfeld was supported for brief periods by the swiss architect Samuel Guyer, Commander von Ludloff, various technical assistants, and finally Friedrich Sarre, who was the director of the Islamic department at the museum and initiator of the expedition. For most of the time, however, all tasks that today would be divided among a team of archaeologists rested solely on Herzfeld's shoulders: coordinating hundreds of workmen at various sites, measuring buildings, drawing architecture and objects, and cataloging finds, but also negociating with local authorities who were often uncooperative."

"Still working at a time when the success of a venture such as the Samarra expedition was measured by its spectacular finds in both architecture and precious objects, the immense responsibility for bringing this expedition through the unexplored territories of Islamic archaeology to a successful conclusion presented an enormous physical and psychological challenge. In an effort that from the perspective of modern archaeology must be called Herculean, he excavated and examined nineteen sites [Great Mosque of al-Mutawakkil, Congregational Mosque of Madinat al-Mutawakkiliyya, Shiite Shrine Complex, Qubbat al-Ṣulaibiyya; palaces of Balkuwārā, Ṣūr ʿĪṣā, and the Qaṣr al-ʿĀshiq; the Cemetery at Shabbat al-Hawā; Mausoleum of Imām al-Dūr; Tall al-ʿAlīq; Ḥarba Bridge and finally the residential architecture at al-Quraina, al-Qāṭūn, al-Jubairiyya, and west of Ṣūr ʿĪṣā, and the baths] and collected a stupendous corpus of material, one that in many respects still forms the foundation for our knowledge of the city of Samarra and ʾAbbāsid art in the 3rd/9th centuries. What is astonishing is that Herzfeld himself considered his achievements during the first campaign in Samarra to be merely a dress rehearsal for the more ambitious second campaign which focused on the Dār al-Khilāfa." [Leisten, Thomas, 2003: "Excavation of Samarra, v. I. Architecture : Final report of the first campaign 1910-1912. Verlag Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 2003. Preface, p.IX."]

Xavier's final report: In October and November 2009, the cataloging of the Ernst Herzfeld Papers, Series 5: Drawings and Maps proved to be a challenge difficult to meet in the terms that were set contractually. However it gave us a better understanding how to handle the following contract, Ernst Herzfeld Papers, Series 7: Records of Samarra Expeditions.

The last four months I worked on this project have been quite rewarding and today I may say with confidence that we have met the challenge of this collection as well as providing a much better environment for the collection to be viewed and researched online by an expanding audience.

In terms of cataloging, we have taken full advantage of the SIRIS platform in order to display how interconnected the Herzfeld materials are. We also produced records which respect cataloging procedure and nomenclature. Authority Headings have been used with great care and corrected if necessary. Multiple keywords and references have been applied throughout the project in order to facilitate the access online.

Our working relationship with SIRIS has expanded in several ways: first, today we have more control of the images we want to upload; second, we have initiated the use of geospatial references for Smithsonian catalog records (still in early stage); finally we have revisited our Image Gallery display pages with the consequence that a new set of pages will be available very soon as well as a set of access pages for the Herzfeld collection.

Interaction with our curatorial department has not yet demonstrated the full potential of such collaboration but some progress has been made: Alex Nagel has taken great interest and has assisted on several occasion in the development of the collection content; Louise Cort has welcomed a discussion on terminology related to ceramics/pottery; Massumeh Farhad has not only taken the time to have an overview of the work accomplished but has accepted to provide small funding in order to finish the cataloging of the Samarra photographs. She has also mentioned the opportunity to promote our work on this specific collection during a coming symposium on Islamic Art to be held in late October 2010 at our museum. Finally in the works possible SIRIS cross searching center training for our FSg curatorial staff.

Enhancing the online access to the Archives collections has also been taken quite seriously by addressing some technical issues with our museum website, by using blogs, by editing Wikipedia entries, by moving on to create a video, as well as creating these Image Gallery pages.

Finally one last task we hope may be integrated in any cataloging project is a report which provides a series of reports and graphs in order to better assess the impact we have when such cataloging projects are correctly funded. Google Analytics, SIRIS reports, are great tools to evaluate what we are doing as well as what can be done.

-Xavier Courouble, Contract Cataloger (Extraordinaire)

Rachael Cristine Woody
Archivist
Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives
woodyr@si.edu

The Fictitious and Exotic (Pets in the Archives Series: 3 of 3)

The Charles Lang Freer Papers, 1876-1931 contain the papers of the industrialist and art collector. The image to the right is part of a larger news clipping titled, "Charles L. Freer Teaches a Pet Crocodile to Play Golf" The Detroit News Tribune, November 24th, 1907. The article appears to be a satire piece on Detroit's elite business men whom make up the Yondotega Club. In the article they are referred to as the "Nature Fakers;" and although the article's true purpose is lost it still provides a humorous read on Freer's fictitious pet crocodile Hilmi Jr. Below is a transcription of the article recounting Freer's speech at the Nature Fakers gathering, as he explains the story of his crocodile.

CHARLES L. FREER TEACHES A PET CROCODILE TO PLAY GOLF

There was expectancy in the air when the members of the Nature Fakers club settled down finally to the serious portion of the evening’s program. The chairman’s face fairly beamed and all present could see that something more than ordinary purport was certainly doing. They were not long in waiting for enlightenment.

“Fellow fakers”, began the chairman, “we have a rare treat in store for us tonight. In fact, I may say with too much of exaggeration that what we will listen to will be forever indelibly stamped on our memories. The gentleman whom I have induced to join our honorable club and become heart and soul one of us , is one of the most distinguished globe trotters in the first ward, a gentleman who knows the ins and out and every nook of the blue “ Mediterranean far better than he does the marshes of Grosse Pointe and the River Rouge; a gentleman who-----“

“Don’t keep us in suspense this way, Mr. Chairman,” said Herman A. Rolsnoven. “Trot out this gentleman and let him speak for himself.”

“Just be patient a moment,” Herman, replied the chairman. I cannot tell you the pleasure I experience in introducing this distinguished gentleman. I will do as you suggest. I now take extreme gratification in presenting to his honorable club our fellow-citizen, Charles L. Freer.”

The announcement was greeted with deafening applause. It was an unexpected treat to have Mr. Freer present and ready to regale the club with a few gems of thought. Members leaped to their feet, waved their glasses in the air and acted like a cloud of hurrah boys out for a lark. The noise and excitement lasted for a full minute.

“Three cheers for Charles L. Freer,” shouted Congressman Denby, mounting the table and shouting with a vim that completely faded all recollection on the days when he was the head push of the University of Michigan aggregation of foot ball players. The three cheers were given with a resounding vehemence.

And a Tiger, Too.

“And now a tiger!” shouted Karl R. Davies, bubbling over enthusiasm.

The rafters of the room fairly shook with the uproar. During all the hubbub, Mr. Freer stood modestly with bowed head, silent, yet grateful at the spontaneous tribute paid him by the members of the club. When all the noise had subsided he began to speak with a voice choking with emotion and just the suspicion of a tear in his eye.\

“Fellow-fakers,” said Mr. Freer, I am overwhelmed with the sincerity of this demonstration. It is a thousand more times than I deserve or expected, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I realize the great and valuable contributions this honorable club is making to the advancement of natural science and I earnestly feel it my duty to do, in my small way, what I can to help the good cause along.

“As you all are probably aware, I had a villa on the Island of Capri, in the Mediterranean, and the scene of my story is laid in the most delightful spot, that really resembles the Garden of the Gods. Some years since, while spending a few charming weeks with my good friend, Abbas Hilmi----

“Just what was that name again, Mr. Freer” inquired Frank Scott Clark.

“Why, I am surprised at your ignorance, Mr. Clark,” replied Mr. Freer, with visible manifestations of impatience. “I said Abbas Hilmi, son of Mohamed Tewfik, seventh ruler of the dynasty of Mehemet Ali. In other words, the khedive of Egypt.”

“Oh.”

During my stay with Abbas,” continued Mr. Freer, “ he presented me with a cute little crocodile, which had been captured in the Nile. He was a bright young specimen and I took to him right away, just like a brother. I named him Hilmi, Jr., after the khedive.

Takes Hilmi to Capri.

“Well, when I returned to Capri I took Hilmi, Jr., with me and he had great fun sporting around the island, and he grew so rapidly and developed so finely along intelligent lines that he became one of the show features of the island. I trained him very carefully, fed him myself and even selected his food, which he would take from my hand.”

“A crocodile eat from your hand, Mr. Freer? Were you not afraid that he would make a little slip sometime and nip off your entire arm?” inquired James E. Kennedy.

“Not a bit of it,” replied Mr. Freer, “I tell you Hilmi, Jr., wasn’t that sort of a crocodile. He knew a great deal more than some human beings with whose acquaintance I have been inflicted at various times in my career.”

“I don’t doubt that at all,” interposed Dr. William H. Morley. The innocent manner in which Dr. Morley had injected this remark seemed to leave Mr. Freer in doubt as to whether or not there might be some subtle meaning attached to it, but he continued:

“Hilmi, Jr., used to follow me about my estate just like a puppy and wherever I went he went.”

“Something like Mary and her little lamb, eh?” suggested Malcom McIntyre.

“Well, you might put it that way, if you choose,” answered Mr. Freer, “for I can assure you his devotion was just as strong as that which report attributes to the famous lamb, I never went out for a little turn at the golf links that Hilmi, Jr., was not Johnny-on-the-spot, and he was not only there, but he seemed to thoroughly enjoy the game. He watched every stroke, followed the ball and was a peach on finding it, if it became lost.

“Finally, to my great surprise, I found Hilmi, Jr., on the links one day switching his tail around at a terrific rate and making the dirt fly in perfect clouds every time he hit the ground. I watched him closely for a time and was amazed to discover that he was trying to drive a ball.

Learns to Play Golf.

“And he was successful, too, for finally he landed right on the sphere and sent it flying through the air with a whirl that would have done credit to John D. Rockfeller or Willie Way. When Hilmi, Jr., saw that he made a successful stroke, his enthusiasm knew no bounds. He danced around, laughed in his crocodile fashion and cut up antics that were positively funny to witness.

“But it set me to thinking-why not teach him the game properly? With me to think is to act, and I began to give Hilmi, Jr., regular instruction. I soon came to the conclusion that if he were to become an expert he would have to learn to handle a stick instead of depending on that clumsy tail of his. This was a problem at first, because it was perfectly evident that he couldn’t hold a golf stick in his feet. But finally, I hit on the happy idea of attaching the sticks to his tail by means of hollow ends which fitted right over the tip and were securely fastened with steel bands. In this way, he could use any sort of a stick that the exigencies of the game demanded

“His progress from then on was simply wonderful, and I actually found myself in the rather unique position of acting as caddy to that crocodile. He learned all the ins and out of the game, too, and his stroke, after he acquired the knack of manipulating his tail properly with the added incumbrance, became perfect. All I had to do was to carry the bundle of sticks around and change them on the end of his tail as the progressed.”

“You don’t mean to say, Mr. Freer,” inquired Director A.H. Griffith, of the Museum of Art, “that Hilmi, Jr., knew when to use one stick and when another? Surely you must have made the selections for him.”

“No, Sir, I did nothing of the sort,” replied Mr. Freer, “If I happened to put the wrong stick on the end of his tail he raised a regular rough house until it was changed. You couldn’t fool him for a minute. Why, I tell you, he was an expert.

Used All The Sticks.

“He would start out with a driver; then would follow up with a brassey; and he always knew that a mashie was the proper caper with which to get out of a bunker.”

“Did he know enough to cut the ball out of rough ground with a niblick?” asked Victor F. Dewey, the gas man.

“Yes, sir, just as well as you or I,” replied Mr. Freer, “and he would always drive on a short hole with a cleek and hole in with a putter. Then we used to have great matches, Hilmi, Jr., and I, and he was so expert that it was not long before he could beat me to a frazzle. Of course, I know that it is rather humiliating to admit that a crocodile could whip you at golf, but it is actually so, and I would not for worlds misrepresent facts to Hilmi, Jr.’s discredit. Finally I used to enter him in all the tournaments around the Mediterranean, but eventually he was ruled out by jealous rivals who passed as human beings. They were jealous of his skill that is what they were, and hated to own that a crocodile could show them pointers on a game devised essentially for man.”

“What became of this wonder, Mr. Freer?” inquired Mr. Davies. “Why did you not bring him to Detroit and enter him against Jacob S. Farrand, Jr., at the Country club, or some of the other crack players around these woods?”

“Well, I thought some of that,” replied Mr. Freer, “but when I returned to America my trunk was so filled with paintings and other rare works of art, that there was no room for Himli, Jr.”

“But you wouldn’t have been able to put him in a trunk, would you?” inquired Congressman Denby.

“No, perhaps not,” replied Mr. Freer. “I spoke in a figurative sense only, meaning that I was so loaded down with other stuff that I did not believe I could give proper attention to the crocodile, and he was an animal that would not tolerate neglect, not Hilmi, Jr.”

“Gentlemen,” began the chairman, “I think that, with all due respect to Mr. Freer, he is open to a trifle of criticism in not bringing Hilmi, Jr., to Detroit. Why, if we had an educated crocodile in our midst, such a one as Hilmi, Jr., is, we would have Newport and its monkey parties backed off the edge of the precipice. It is certainly a distinct loss to the town and I intend to take the matter up with the Board of Commerce and see whether Hilmi, Jr. cannot be sent for; you would have no objection to that, would you, Mr. Freer?”

“Certainly not,” replied Mr. Freer. “I would be only too glad to co-operate in such a project. There is a good yard up at the Yondotega club where he could be kept when he was not playing golf.”

Here the meeting broke up in a riot of applause for Mr. Freer, and he was cheered again and again to the echo for his exhibition of public spirit.

Rachael Cristine Woody
Archivist
Freer Gallery of Art and Arthur M. Sackler Gallery Archives
woodyr@si.edu