Library of Congress's Blog, page 46

Library Photographer Carol Highsmith: Documenting the Nation’s Beauty and Resilience

Yardi Gras in New Orleans, replacing Mardi Gras during COVID. Photo: Carol Highsmith. Prints and Photographs Division.

This is a guest post by María Peña, a public relations strategist in the Library’s Office of Communications.

Even in the midst of a pandemic that has buried dreams and kept a tight grip on the nation’s psyche, Library photographer at large Carol M. Highsmith wants us to fall in love with America — to see its washed-face beauty and, through it, all that unites us.

Although she’s traveled in every state shooting life in urban and rural settings since 1980, her road trips during the COVID-19 pandemic have been challenging. Her vivid photographs have captured crowd-less landmarks and street scenes, empty highways and shuttered businesses. But, she says, the images also denote American resilience. You just have to look closely.

Carol Highsmith (and friend). Prints and Photographs Division. 

Having traveled to the former Soviet Union in the 1970s and later through China and Europe, Highsmith, 74, says she developed a deeper appreciation for the U.S.

“Obviously a lot of small towns are hurting… but on the whole I’m showing you the sunny side of America, because that’s what I want you to see; that’s what I see and love,” says Highsmith.

“It’s a gift to be in this country. If you see my work, you will know it’s America; it’s about us, who we are and how we operate. Life can be tough, not every day is 100% perfect, but the horrible days sort of meld into wonderful days where the sun shines and flowers bloom and everything is fabulous again,” she said.

As part of Women’s History Month, Highsmith often considered “America’s Photographer,” takes us on a metaphorical journey through some of the most iconic moments of a storied 41-year career. The Prints and Photographs Division houses her life’s body of work – close to 100,000 photographs— making her the only living photographer documenting America’s milestones to have an individual namesake collection.

Self-described as a “visual documentarian” and “an architectural photographer with a twist,” Highsmith found inspiration in  legendary female photographers before her, like Frances Benjamin Johnston and Dorothea Lange, whose works are also featured at the Library.

Highsmith launched her career in 1980, working for the Corcoran School of Photography on a 3-year project at The Willard Hotel, the “hotel of presidents” two blocks from the White House, which was undergoing a massive restoration. There were no architectural photos of the building’s interiors to guide crews, only those Johnston had made decades earlier. The building had since deteriorated until, Highsmith said, it looked as if it had been hit by a “nuclear blast.” Side-by-side pictures of Johnston’s and Highsmith’s sum up the hotel’s trajectory.

The Willard Hotel, in days of disrepair. Photo: Carol Highsmith. Prints and Photographs Division.

Just as Johnston had documented some of America’s presidents, national events and landmarks, so too Highsmith pledged to become the nation’s unofficial photographer.

Tethered to her 151-megapixels digital camera, Highsmith also found inspiration in Lange, whose haunting depiction of breadlines, destitute farmers and hardscrabble migrant workers during the Great Depression left its mark in photojournalism. Lange’s “Migrant Mother,” taken in 1936, is one of the Library’s most downloaded images, and during a road trip in California, Highsmith was thrilled to find the very spot of the migrant camp where that iconic photo was taken.

Richard Ortiz, a migrant worker in Nipomo, California, at the spot where Dorothea Lange photographed migrant worker Florence Owens Thompson in 1936. Photo: Carol Highsmith. Prints and Photographs Division.

The pandemic has made her work a lot easier in virtually deserted tourist traps, like Louisiana’s historic antebellum plantations, New Mexico chapels or Santa Fe’s plaza, that normally would be teeming with thousands of visitors. While the pandemic robbed Louisiana of the festive Mardi Gras parades, Highsmith photographed “Yardi Gras,” the beautiful artwork on people’s front lawns and porches that resembled Mardi Gras floats.

“What I’m showing you in these photographs is five months of ‘Hello, is anyone there?’” she said of her work during the pandemic. “I remember on a weekday morning at Union Station (in DC), not a soul but a policeman and his dog, can you fathom that?”

Other photographs depict, in Highsmith’s words, “poignant vestiges of simpler times,” like those she took of Iowa’s unpaved roads and tidy farmsteads in 2018. The dilapidated buildings, sagging wooden barns and abandoned grain elevators ooze a certain sadness and nostalgia for what she calls “disappearing America.”

But ever the eternal optimist and storyteller, Highsmith’s camera captured red-colored buildings and early morning sun rays that bathed the bucolic scene in a special glow. An unplanned “selfie” moment, for sure.

Recalling events that have impacted her work and perspective, Highsmith brings up memories of 9/11. She had taken photographs of the Manhattan skyline two months prior to the terrorist attacks that wiped the Twin Towers off the cityscape forever.

It’s all part of her quest for preserving a piece of history for the ages, and she’s not done yet. Her epic state-by-state study has yielded thousands of photos, and many more will pivot to people. In a field stubbornly dominated by men – female photographers face barriers in some of the world’s major newspapers, according to a 2020 study— Highsmith stands out precisely because her multi-year, multi-state study is a rare feat.

Growing up in Minneapolis, Highsmith remembers her dad photographing and documenting her young life, and she credits him for helping her find her life’s passion. Guided by a can-do attitude and a strong work ethic, this septuagenarian advises young women pursuing careers in photography and other male-dominated professions to “never, never, give up… you got to knock on 3,000 doors, somebody might say ‘yes’ at the last one.”

Highsmith has leaned on Ted Landphair, her husband of 40 years,  for moral, logistical and production support. And, of course, for much-needed banter in a nomad’s life, during months-long stretches away from home in Takoma Park, Maryland, a D.C. suburb, and their four beloved cats.

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

Kermit! On Fame, Fortune and the 2020 National Recording Registry

{mediaObjectId:'BE389AB1A40E98B9E053CAE7938C14E8',playerSize:'mediumWide'}
We get a fair number of famous people passing through your favorite national Library, but it’s not everyday that the world’s most famous (and only singing) frog hops on a video interview with the Librarian herself.

But Kermit the Frog did indeed chat with Carla Hayden about his induction into the 2020 class of the National Recording registry and his notable breakthrough of being the first frog to ever make the list. His entry was “The Rainbow Connection,” the huge hit from 1979’s “The Muppet Movie,” which made him a banjo-strumming star.

The list, announced yesterday, is an annual 25-recording addition to the nation’s historical archives of music, broadcasts or other recordings. There are now 575 recordings on the list. Highlights from this year include Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation;” Louis Armstrong’s “When the Saints Go Marching In;” Phil Rizzuto’s broadcast of Roger Maris hitting his 61rst home run, breaking Babe Ruth’s single-season record; Jackson Browne’s “Late for the Sky;” Kool & the Gang’s “Celebration,” and one of Thomas Edison’s first recordings. (You can nominate songs yourself; about 900 were suggested this year.)

In the interview, Hayden asks the Muppet star about the film’s shooting, how he handles fame and the lasting meaning of “Rainbow.” There’s also a guest appearance by songwriter Paul Williams, who co-wrote the piece with Kenneth Ascher. Williams, the Oscar Award-winning writer of “Evergreen” and recipient of the Johnny Mercer Award, says the song is about “the immense power of faith.”

Kermit agreed, and was excited by his induction.

“Well, gee, it’s an amazing feeling to officially become part of our nation’s history,” he told Hayden. It’s a great honor. And I am thrilled — I am thrilled! — to be the first frog on the list!”

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

The 2020 Class of the National Recording Registry: A New “Rhythm Nation”

{mediaObjectId:'BE389AAD103998B7E053CAE7938C78E4',playerSize:'mediumWide'}

Brett Zongker and Leah Knobel of the Library of Communications media relations staff contributed to this story.

It was 1989, and Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation 1814” hit the eardrums and radio airwaves like a dance track for a social-justice protest. The title track, “State of the World,” “Miss You Much” and “Escapade” helped set records for Top 1o hits off a single album. Its call for social action was one of the strongest in pop music since Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On.”

That album, with most tracks written and produced by James “Jimmy Jam” Harris III and Terry Lewis, helps headline the Library’s 2020 class of the National Recording Registry. The other 24 recordings now preserved for posterity as part of the nation’s history range from rap to opera to baseball to one of Thomas Edison’s first recordings.

Janet Jackson. Press photo from “Rhythm Nation.“

“We wanted ‘Rhythm Nation’ to really communicate empowerment,” Harris said. “It was making an observation, but it was also a call to action.”

Highlights of the Class of 2o2o: Nas’ “Illmatic,”  Louis Armstrong’s “When the Saints Go Marching In,” Jackson Browne’s “Late for the Sky,” Flaco Jiménez’s “Partners,” Franklin Roosevelt’s 1941 Christmas Eve radio address with Winston Churchill, Leontyne Price’s “Aida” and  Kermit the Frog’s “The Rainbow Connection.” First timer: A podcast, a 2008 episode from “This American Life” about the mortgage crisis then sweeping the country.

“The National Recording Registry will preserve our history through these vibrant recordings of music and voices that have reflected our humanity and shaped our culture from the past 143 years,” said Carla Hayden, the Librarian. “We received about 900 public nominations this year for recordings to add to the registry.”

There are now 575 recordings on the registry, a tiny fraction of the Library’s 3 million sound recordings.

Flaco Jiménez. Photo: Leonard Jiménez.

The contributions come from all over the nation, parts of the Caribbean and from earliest days of recorded sound. Jiménez, for example, has been playing his south Texas music since he was a kid in the 1940s, in both English and Spanish.

He heard his grandfather and father playing it. He picked up his signature instrument, the accordion, as a boy. Over a seven-decade career, he’s recorded his  “energetic happiness” with some of the most accomplished country and pop musicians of the day, including Ry Cooder, Dwight Yoakam, John Hiatt, Linda Ronstadt and Los Lobos.

“People used to regard my music as cantina music, just no respect,” he said in a recent interview. “The accordion was considered something like a party joke…I really give respect to everyone who helped me out on this record and I’m flattered by this recognition.”

Jimmy Cliff brings Jamaica into this year’s list, with his acting and singing role in “The Harder They Come,” the first film produced on the island, in 1972. The soundtrack features six songs recorded by Cliff  (“Many Rivers to Cross,” the title track, “Sitting Here in Limbo,”) and has been credited with taking reggae worldwide .

Going back to the early 20th century, songs by then-recent immigrants from Europe made the list. Hjalmar Peterson, a Swedish immigrant who settled in Minnesota, became a popular entertainer, including his hit “Nikolina.” Marika Papagika, a Greek immigrant, settled in New York City and became one of the most popular singers of the Greek-American community for years.

The first frog to be featured on the list showed up this year, too. Muppet fans know Kermit the Frog’s  “The Rainbow Connection” from 1979’s “The Muppet Movie.” Songwriter Paul Williams, who wrote the music and lyrics with Kenneth Ascher, said the song is about “the immense power of faith.”

“We don’t know how it works, but we believe that it does,” Williams said. “Sometimes the questions are more beautiful than the answers.”

Kermit was excited by the news: “Well, gee, it’s an amazing feeling to officially become part of our nation’s history. It’s a great honor. And I am thrilled — I am thrilled! — to be the first frog on the list!”

The new class showcases one of the earliest recordings of an American voice by Thomas Edison in 1878, just months after he had invented his recording machine. It also captures the dramatic moment in baseball when Roger Maris broke Babe Ruth’s single-season home run record, and the soap opera “The Guiding Light” as it began on radio.

NPR’s “1A” will feature several recordings in the series on “The Sounds of America,”  including interviews with Hayden and artists in the weeks ahead.

Musician Branford Marsalis credits Armstrong’s recording for making a previously regional song an international one. He recalled playing “The Saints” with his brother Wynton Marsalis while growing up in New Orleans.

“As kids in the late 1960s, Wynton and I learned it when I was still playing clarinet; Wynton playing the melody, and me playing the bass notes. … It’s the first song we played together,” Branford Marsalis said. “I can’t imagine New Orleans’ culture without this song. It is an indelible part of our history.”

Connie Smith, press photo.

A new country selection for the registry adds the voice of Connie Smith, who has been called one of most underrated vocalists in country music — and who is greatly admired by her peers, including Dolly Parton.

“I never dreamed when I walked into RCA’s Studio B in Nashville on July 16, 1964, to make my first record that a song from that session called ‘Once a Day’ would become a hit,” Smith said.

Under the terms of the National Recording Preservation Act of 2000, the Librarian of Congress, with advice from the National Recording Preservation Board, selects 25 titles each year that are “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant” and are at least 10 years old.  You can nominate songs yourself.

The Library’s Packard Campus for Audio Visual Conservation in Culpeper, Virginia, works to ensure that the recording will be preserved. This can be either through the Library’s recorded-sound preservation program or through collaborative ventures with other archives, studios and independent producers.

The Packard Campus is a state-of-the-art facility where the nation’s library acquires, preserves and provides access to the world’s largest and most comprehensive collection of films, television programs, radio broadcasts and sound recordings.

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

Researcher Story: Kimberly Hamlin

Kimberley Hamlin. Photo courtesy of the author.

Kimberly Hamlin is a history professor at Miami University in Ohio and a distinguished lecturer for the Organization of American Historians. She researched her latest book, “Free Thinker: Sex, Suffrage and the Extraordinary Life of Helen Hamilton Gardener,” in the Library’s Manuscript Division.

Who was Helen Hamilton Gardener?

Helen Hamilton Gardener is the most interesting and influential suffragist that no one has ever heard of. When she was 23, she was outed in Ohio newspapers for having an affair with a married man (he told her he was divorced). Rather than slink away in shame as a “fallen woman,” she moved to New York City, changed her name (she was born Alice Chenoweth) and reinvented herself.

By 1893, Gardener was one of the most sought-after speakers and writers in the country. In 1910, she moved to Washington, D.C., and joined the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA). Her colleagues called her their “diplomatic corps” and “the most potent factor” in congressional passage of the 19th Amendment. In 1920, President Woodrow Wilson appointed her to the U.S. Civil Service Commission, making her the highest-ranking woman in federal government and a national symbol of what it meant, finally, for women (at least white women) to be full citizens.

What inspired you to tell Gardener’s story?

wrote about Gardener’s brain donation (yes, brain donation) in my first book. She donated her brain to science when she died in 1925 to prove the intellectual equality of women, and I wanted to learn all about her.

So, I started tracing her life with support from a National Endowment for the Humanities Public Scholar Award. One day, in the Library’s Manuscript Reading Room, I came across a coded letter Gardener wrote revealing her scandalous 25-year-long relationship with Charles Smart, the man she had the affair with. I knew then that I had to tell her remarkable story. I documented her life with research at the Schlesinger Library and, especially, the Library of Congress, along with probate and military records, digitized historical newspapers and her vast writings.

Given Gardener’s influence in the suffrage movement, why is she less well known now than other prominent suffrage advocates?

Gardener is less well known for two main reasons. First, she mandated in her will that her papers be destroyed. So, telling her story was not easy or obvious. Second, much of her “diplomatic work” for the 19th Amendment took place behind closed doors with President Wilson and his top staff, with her friends in Congress and with her next-door neighbor, House Speaker “Champ” Clark.

  Can you comment on your use of the Library’s collections?

“Free Thinker” draws most heavily on the Adelaide Johnson collection — I found the letter revealing Gardener’s relationship with Smart there — and the papers of Woodrow Wilson and his top staff, especially Joseph Tumulty.

I also looked at the papers of the members of Congress Gardener lobbied to see how the 19th Amendment got through the Senate after languishing just a few votes shy of passage throughout 1918 and half of 1919. Here, the most instructive sources came from the papers of Sens. John Sharp Williams of Mississippi and William Borah of Idaho. Both collections have small subject files on suffrage, but the frankest debates are documented in chronological correspondence folders from the weeks leading up to key votes in the Senate. The most eye-opening source is a letter from Williams to Gardener explaining why he would never vote to enfranchise Black women in Mississippi.

Do you have advice for other researchers on navigating the Library’s collections?

Consult the expert archivists and staff at the Library and brainstorm together! My second piece of advice — especially for those working on topics related to women, sex and gender — is to take finding aids and indexes with a grain of salt. The stories we seek to tell most certainly exist in the archive, but they may not be indexed or labeled.

What’s next for you?

My next book will be a history of the temperance movement. Temperance advocates tend to get short shrift as killjoys who wanted to shut down the party when in fact I think they were the #MeToo movement of the 19th century. I have done some preliminary research in the Library’s Mabel Walker Willebrandt collection and am excited to return when the Library reopens to the public.

Another Little Piece: A New Way to Study Medieval Manuscript Fragments

This is a guest post by Marianna Stell, a reference assistant, Rare Book and Special Collections Division.

When most of us think of Janis Joplin’s hit song “Piece of My Heart,” it’s her raspy voice that worms its way into our brains, and we start humming, “come, on, come on, take another little piece of my heart now, baby!”

Though Joplin’s version topped the charts in 1968, the song was recorded two years prior by Erma Franklin, Aretha Franklin’s older sister.  Both versions express the protagonist’s experience of feeling torn apart.  She is appreciated, the song goes, but not enough. Internal fragmentation results.

If medieval manuscripts in the United States had a voice beginning in the early part of the 20th century, they might have sung a similar tune. In the hands of the famous bookdealer Otto Ege, (1888-1951), they were appreciated, but not enough to be supported as whole entities. Ege was a book breaker. He called himself a “Biblioclast.”

Detail of fragment from a 1310 Bible from one of Ege’s portfolio boxes. Rare Books and Special Collections.

“For more than 25 years,” Ege explained in the March 1938 issue of the hobby journal Avocations, “I have been one of those ‘strange, eccentric, book-tearers.’” An art professor in Cleveland, Ohio, Ege purchased manuscripts, cut them up, and turned them into portfolio books, which he sold to libraries across North America.  A detail from one of these, from a 1310 manuscript “Paris Bible,” is pictured at left. It’s  written n Latin vulgate  in a gothic script. Ege included it in a portfoloio box, “Fifty Original Leaves from Famous Bibles. ”

Ege justified his actions as being democratically motivated.  He reasoned that few university libraries and collectors could afford a complete medieval manuscript. By his logic, in breaking these treasures and providing buyers with a sample of manuscript leaves from various times and places, he allowed more people to enjoy access to these fragments of history.

 

Ege’s argument was sincere if problematic.

Then, as now, a clear financial benefit existed to breaking a manuscript. A bookdealer makes a lot more money by selling individual leaves to different buyers than by selling an entire manuscript to a single buyer. This problem remains well-known to circumspect curators and ethical antiquarian bookdealers, who rely on well-documented provenance records in order to prove that the purchase of an item does not support the dismembering of cultural artifacts.

While no one can turn back the clock and spare these manuscripts from Ege’s destructive appreciation, a new field of digital humanities has emerged as an answer. The Rare Book and Special Collections Division at the Library is collaborating with the international initiative Fragmentarium.ms to help pioneer what’s called digital fragmentology.

Fragmentarium is building an international community around the ability to identify, search, compare, and collect data on medieval manuscript fragments.  What does that mean?  For one, it means that libraries across the world can work together to create complete virtual reconstructions of Ege’s manuscripts. One of the most famous reconstructions is the Beauvais Missal for which leaves from more than 60 locations were brought together.

Here in Rare Books, we’re in the process of bolstering our fragment identifications and descriptions so that our fragments—loose leaf fragments, those added to manuscripts or books, and those used as waste in the bindings of other books—can be discovered.

While important information is lost when a manuscript is broken apart, fragments in-and-of themselves can be quite important. During the medieval and early modern period, manuscripts deemed no longer useful were often used as structural support within book bindings.  Now, some of these in situ fragments are of greater historical interest than the text block the binding was once fashioned to protect.

Fragment of Ivo of Chartre’s “Dectrtum” pasted to the back board of Leonardus de Utino’s Quadragesimale aurem Venice, Francisus Renner, 1741.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were recently reminded of this fact when, upon opening a rather homely looking Venetian imprint  we discovered a late 11th-century manuscript fragment pasted on the inside of the back board (above). Written in a late Caroline scribal hand that is not especially refined, the text of this fragment is clear enough to be identified as the work of Ivo of Chartres.

Ivo was bishop of Chartres Cathedral in Paris from 1090 until his death in 1115.  His writings were foundational to the development of the late medieval legal tradition, and his influence was immediate and widespread throughout Europe.

The Library’s fragment corresponds to the section of Ivo’s Decretum—a collection of decisions and judgments in canon law—in which the bishop discusses baptism.  Based on the scribal hand, the Library’s fragment likely dates to the end of the 11th century, right around the time the Decretum was being created, and toward the end of Ivo’s life.

This fragment was likely later used as binding waste because it had no aesthetic value and the text was for some reason not considered useful.

Piecing together the narratives of these fragments helps scholars reconstruct portions of history that would otherwise remain locked in vaults or portfolios.  In making the fragment collection more accessible, we hope to encourage a healthy appreciation of fragments that leads to constructive conversations and discourages destructive collecting habits.

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

Women’s History Month: Latinas!

The is a guest post by Hispanic Division Huntington Fellows Maria Guadalupe Partida, Herman Luis Chavez, and reference librarian Maria Thurber.

Images used clockwise from top left –  El Dia Internacional de la Mujer, by Deborah Dosamanes; Dia Internacional de la Mujer; Mis Madres, Easter Hernandez; We the people – defend dignity, by Shepard Fairey and Arlene Mejorado.

Last summer, as the global pandemic raged on and the need for digital resources continued, a group in the Hispanic Division decided to collaborate on projects highlighting the rich history and contributions of the Latina/o/x community. With support from supervisors, mentors, and colleagues, we — Huntington Fellows Lupita Partida and Herman Luis Chavez and Reference Librarian Dani Thurber — formed a group we call the Latinx Dream Team. Aided by video chats, calls, and text messages, we focused on all things Latina/o/x, from discussing the term “Latinx” to planning virtual events during National Hispanic Heritage Month. Despite working remotely from three different time zones and never having met in person, our combined efforts resulted in the publication of two new research guides: A Latinx Resource Guide: Civil Rights Cases and Events and Latinx Studies: Library of Congress Research Guide.

In celebration of Women’s History Month, we share the stories of Latina Luminarias whose lives, actions, and bravery inspired our work. We call these women Luminarias (luminaries) because they “lit the way” during challenging times. Luminarias, sometimes referred to as farolitos (“small lanterns”), are traditionally made out of paper bags with a small light source inside and weighted down by sand. A historical tradition from New Mexico, these little lights illuminate towns during winter’s darkness.

 Jovita Idar’s El Progreso Park in Laredo, TX. Photo: Lupita Partida.

Jovita Idar 

Journalist and community activist Jovita Idár was born in the border town of Laredo, Texas in 1885. Her parents founded “La Crónica,” a local Spanish-language newspaper that uncovered prevalent discrimination against Mexicans and Mexican Americans and roused activism among individuals residing in both Laredo and Nuevo Laredo. In 1911, Idár helped assemble the first Mexicanist Congress, a political convention that addressed socioeconomic discrepancies within Mexican and Mexican-American communities. Idár joined the journalists of “El Progreso” newspaper, where she criticized President Wilson’s military intervention at the U.S-Mexico border during the Mexican Revolution. After reading Idár’s political editorial, Texas Rangers arrived to shut down “El Progreso.” Idár firmly stood outside, prohibiting the Rangers from entering. Ultimately, Texas Rangers shut down “El Progreso,” but Idár remained an activist, writing pro-suffrage editorials for both “La Cronica” and “Evolución,” a newspaper founded by Idár alongside her brother.

Pura Belpré

Pura Belpré arrived in New York City in 1921 and discovered a need to connect the growing Hispanic communities across the city’s boroughs. As one of the first bilingual assistants hired by the New York Public Library, Belpré found fertile ground for bilingual cuentos folklóricos (folkloric stories) from her native Puerto Rico. Belpré wrote and published her own cuentos and went around the city telling stories and inspiring literacy. Belpré’s legacy lives on through ALA’s Pura Belpré Award, which honors her as one of the most influential librarians to promote children’s literature and for her service to the Latina/o/x community. In the Hispanic Division, we honor Belpré’s work by recommending diverse children’s and YA materials for the Library’s collections and hosting the annual Américas Award ceremony. Last year, Planting stories: the life of librarian and storyteller Pura Belpré received a commendation from the Américas Award committee.

 

Celia Cruz, 1962. Prints and Photographs Division.

Celia Cruz 

The music of Celia Cruz can lift spirits even on the gloomiest day. Cruz grew up in Havana, Cuba exposed to diverse music and musicians. Known worldwide as the “Queen of Salsa,” Cruz recorded more than 70 albums and received countless accolades. In 2005, Cruz was awarded posthumously the Congressional Gold Medal. In 2013, the Library added Cruz’s collaborative album with Johnny Pacheco, “Celia & Johnny” (1974) to the National Recording Registry. With her distinctive shout “¡Azucar!” (“Sugar!”) while singing, Cruz’s voice and her music’s uplifting rhythm are wonderful reminders that life is beautiful despite adversity.

 

 

Sylvia Rivera 

Sylvia Rivera, born Ray Rivera Mendoza, was a Latina transgender activist and drag queen with Puerto Rican, Venezuelan, and Mexican roots. During the 1969 Stonewall Uprising, Sylvia demonstrated against the police raid of the Stonewall Inn. Following this event, a wave of political activism emerged within the LGBTQ community, leading Rivera to press for New York City’s first gay rights ordinance. In 1970, Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson (1945-1992) founded the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR), a NYC-based organization that supplied lodging for homeless transgendered and queer youth. The Sylvia Rivera Law Project (SLRP), a non-profit organization that provides free legal services for transgender and gender non-conforming individuals was founded in 2002 to honor Rivera’s life-long activism for queer and trans people of color.

Rachael Romero. Stop forced sterilization. 1977. Prints and Photographs Division.

Antonia Hernández (1948-)

Antonia Hernández, born in Torreón, Mexico in 1948, is an attorney, civil rights activist, and the current president and CEO of the California Community Foundation, a philanthropic nonprofit organization that supports marginalized communities in Los Angeles, California. Hernández defended the women of Madrigal v. Quilligan, a class action lawsuit filed by 10 Mexican-American women against the Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center for involuntary or forced sterilization. From 1985 to 2004, Hernández was the president and general counsel of the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund (MALDEF), a nonprofit organization that advocates for the civil rights of the Latina/o/x community.

 

 

 

Photo: Fajardo-Anstine by Graham Morrison. Photo of Antonia Hernández used with permission.

Kali Fajardo-Anstine (1987-)

Kali Fajardo-Anstine is a novelist from Denver, Colorado with Indigenous, Latina, and Filipino roots and a 2020 winner of an American Book Award. Fajardo-Anstine is the author of “Sabrina and Corina: Stories,” finalist for the National Book Award, a novel that captures the lives of Indigenous Latina characters in the American West. Winner of multiple awards and widely translated, “Sabrina and Corina” promotes a narrative of identity, heritage, and feminine empowerment. Listen to Fajardo-Anstine’s inspiring presentation and Q&A session during last year’s virtual National Book Festival.

The Latinas highlighted here are only a few of the women who inspired us this year. Please tell us in the comments about the Luminarias who have encouraged, nurtured, or taught you!

Was My Female Ancestor a Suffragist?

Suffragists Katharine McCormick and Mrs. Charles Parker (first name not recorded). April 1913. Prints and Photographs Division.

This is a guest post by Candice Buchanan, a research librarian in the local history and genealogy section of the Main Reading Room.  

Finally. After seven decades spent lecturing, debating, writing, parading, suffering, and all-out fighting for it, women had the right to vote. The 19th Amendment was ratified on August 18, 1920. History was made, although as a practical matter, these gains only applied to white women at the time. Still, the paradigm had shifted.

Did your ancestor take part? Was she for or against such decisive reform?

It can be challenging to discover records that give dimension to the women in our genealogy. Suffrage provides an opportunity.

The enormous suffrage movement produced national superstars whose names are forever connected to the cause. Those women earned their prominence because they rallied broad participation across the country.

The boots-on-the-ground suffragists were the women in your community and family tree. These women labored for reform in their states, counties, cities, churches, schools, social clubs and families. At every level, women had to convince a majority of male voters and legislators to endorse suffrage. Only men could cast the ballots that would grant the same right to women.

Not all women were suffragists. A strong anti-suffrage movement coexisted and counteracted the cause. Some women kept their opinion private. Others avoided the topic altogether. To find out where your relatives were on that spectrum, you can begin with some basic genealogical research.

The suffrage movement lasted from the Seneca Falls Convention in 1848 to the ratification of the 19th Amendment in 1920. To get started, first identify the women in your family whose lifetimes intersect that era. They did not have to be members of an official pro- or anti-suffrage organization to take a side. Investigate the positions of their social clubs, religious affiliations, political parties, family members, and communities for insights into how they may have viewed suffrage.

Library of Congress Collections and Exhibits

Next, the Library is home to significant historical material related to the suffrage movement, including the special exhibit, “Shall Not Be Denied: Women Fight for the Vote.” The exhibit has a virtual counterpart to explore online, which includes original papers of suffragists and suffrage organizations, photographs, historical accounts and more. Browse digital collections such as the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA) Records and utilize resources identified in the 19th Amendment research guide to understand the national movement and provide historical context for the roles your ancestors played.

Suffrage Organization Archives

Each suffrage organization had philosophies and action plans. Knowing which one(s) your ancestors belonged to will help you to understand their perspectives.

The most well-known suffrage organizations were the National Woman Suffrage Association (NWSA) and American Woman Suffrage Association (AWSA), which merged in 1890 to form the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA). After the 19th Amendment passed in 1920, NAWSA merged with the National Council of Women Voters to form the League of Women Voters, which is still active.

Similarly, the National Federation of Afro-American Women and the National League of Colored Women merged in 1896 to become the National Association of Colored Women (NACW). In 1904, NACW became known as the National Association of Colored Women’s Clubs (NACWC). Their work to overcome the challenges women of color face in the fight for equal rights is ongoing.

As the movement evolved, these groups continued to merge, adapt, or split. A prominent example of the latter, occurred in1917, when Alice Paul broke away from NAWSA to form the National Woman’s Party.

Other groups, though not specifically created to fight for suffrage, supported the cause. These organizations, such as the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, became important allies.

To find out if your ancestors were members, search for the records of each organization. Seek out state and local chapters from the communities where your ancestors lived. In addition to Library, ArchiveGrid is a useful tool to locate collections at over 1,000 institutions nationwide. Reach out to state or university archives, county historical societies and community libraries. Most archives do not have every-name indexes. You’ll want to find the most likely collections and study their contents for ancestors’ names. If you do not find actual membership rosters, look for alternatives such as meeting minutes, correspondence, newsletters, and programs that may identify ancestors or their neighborhoods.

Newspapers

Suffragist activities were often reported in local newspapers. Sometimes members were identified or quoted. For example, in November 1920, many articles were written about the first women at the polls on Election Day.

The Library provides free access to Chronicling America, a collection of historic newspapers. It’s important to find the newspapers local to your ancestors’ neighborhoods. If those hometown papers are not yet posted to Chronicling America, use the U.S. Newspaper Directory to see which repositories house the archives.

Poll Taxes and Voter Registrations

If her state required a poll tax, find out if she paid it. For some areas, poll taxes have been digitized or published, but in most cases you will need to contact the county tax office or courthouse to access the original records. Voter registrations are also generally maintained at the local level. For family history purposes, these documents may reveal additional facts like name changes, birthdays, occupations, residences and taxable property.

There are limitations to poll tax and voter registration records because, in spite of the 19th Amendment, not everyone was given an equal opportunity to participate. Women of color, like men of color, were forced to overcome intentional obstacles such as literacy tests and the poll tax itself. If your ancestor does not appear as a registered voter, you may want to dig deeper into the local history of their town, county, and state to determine what tactics may have inhibited their opportunity to register to vote.

Poll taxes and voter registrations indicate what your ancestor did with her new right. They do not tell you how she felt about it or whether or not she took an active role in the fight for it. Nevertheless, this historic moment in the lifetimes of our female ancestors should be documented for every woman in the family tree who was qualified to vote on Election Day, November 2, 1920. Whether or not she registered to vote, or tried to register to vote, in the first election for which she was constitutionally eligible, is a relevant part of her story and her place in history

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

New! Read Around the States

This is a guest post by Guy Lamolinara, head of the Center for the Book and the communications officer for Literary Initiatives.

America’s rich literary heritage is reflected in its states and territories.

Today we are launching a project called Read Around the States. It features videos with  U.S. members of Congress who have chosen a special book for young people that is connected to their states – either through the book’s setting or author, or perhaps simply because it is a favorite of the member.

Each video also includes an interview with the book’s author, conducted by the Affiliate Center for the Book in the member’s state. The Center for the Book is a Library program whose mission is to promote books, reading libraries and literacy nationwide. The mission is achieved with the help of a network of 53 Affiliate centers – one in each state, the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands. These centers work with the Library on its National Book Festival and other literary programs and events.

Three members have already recorded, and their videos go online today:

French Hill, of Arkansas’ 2nd Congressional District, reads from Kate Jerome’s “Lucky to Live in Arkansas” (Arcadia Kids Publishing). Jerome is in conversation with Jennifer Chilcoat and Ruth Hyatt of the Library of Congress Arkansas Center for the Book.

{mediaObjectId:'BAEDD126BB00D591E053CAE7938CD55D',playerSize:'mediumWide'}Bob Latta, of Ohio’s 5th Congressional District, reads from Douglas Brinkley’s “American Moonshot: John F. Kennedy and the Great Space Race” (HarperCollins). Don Boozer, head of the Ohio Center for the Book at Cleveland Public Library, interviews Brinkley, who grew up in the state.{mediaObjectId:'BAEDD122FDD5D58FE053CAE7938C1270',playerSize:'mediumWide'}

In this recording, Rep. Chellie Pingree, of Maine’s 1st Congressional District, reads from “The Circus Ship” by Chris Van Dusen (Candlewick Press). Hayden Anderson, executive director of the Maine Humanities Council and home of the Library of Congress Maine Center for the Book, interviews Van Dusen.

{mediaObjectId:'BAEDD12A95EED593E053CAE7938CAA68',playerSize:'mediumWide'}

New videos will become available as they are recorded. Even if you or your children aren’t from these states, the videos are still a great way to see and hear these members of Congress reading favorite books and talking about what inspired them to make their choices.

Why not read a book yourself or read one with your children that is connected to your home state? It is sure to make you proud of your own state’s literary heritage.

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

Researcher Story: Michelle Farrell

Michelle Farrell. Photo courtesy of the author.

Michelle Farrell has been writing since she won a citywide contest in the fourth grade for an essay titled ”What America Means to Me .” Later, as a journalist in New Hampshire, her favorite stories were about what brings people and places together, a theme she pursues now as a freelance writer. Her latest story, researched at the Library, explores the experiences of W.W. Denslow, the original illustrator of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” in Bermuda. Denslow bought an island there in the early 1900s using royalties from his works.

Tell us a little about your writing career.

Most of my career was spent at a newspaper in southern New Hampshire, just up the highway from where I grew up in central Massachusetts. An expat journey through London and Bermuda came next. Twenty years after that adventure began, I host my own web site, combining all my different worlds.

What drew you to W.W. Denslow?

I started my research after a friend told me that Bermuda sunsets had inspired the yellow brick road in “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.” The timing of that tale isn’t right — Denslow arrived in Bermuda after “Oz” — but I was intrigued just the same.

Later, I took a tour boat ride with some visitors. Our guide pointed out the white turreted house that Denslow lost in 1911 when his money ran out and the island fantasy ended. Off I went to find out more.

Farrell’s work at the Library. Photo: Michelle Farrell.

What collections did you use at the Library?

First, I read the score for “The Pearl and the Pumpkin” in the Performing Arts Room. The 1905 songbook is a record of Denslow’s musical extravaganza, a show inspired by his new island home. Denslow designed the scenes and costumes for what was supposed to be his next-big-thing — a spectacle to rival “Oz.”

In taking the time to read the old songbook firsthand, I had hoped to find a link — in lyrics, in tone, in color — to his beloved Bermuda.

Second, I requested a playbill from the Library’s Theater Playbills Collection from December 1905. This is when the musical played at the New National Theatre in Washington, D.C. The playbill’s detailed scene list hints at a Bermuda vibe, ending, “On the South Shore, midnight” — one of the loveliest nighttime settings I know. Perhaps the fairy-tale artist felt the same.

Third, I looked at the digital collection of “The Wizard of Oz: An American Fairy Tale,” a 2000 exhibit at the Library. For my research, two pieces in the collection stood out.

First, there was “Oz” author L. Frank Baum’s letter to his brother Harry in April 1900 anticipating the upcoming publication of “Oz” later that year. “Denslow has made profuse illustrations for it and it will glow with bright colors,” Baum wrote. Later, he would seek to downplay his illustrator’s contributions, according to research cited in my article.

Second, there was a copyright registration filed in the U.S. Copyright Office with both men’s names inked in. The two collaborators would later disagree on just what that copyright permitted. Baum, for example, felt Denslow had no right to use the “Oz” images in his later works.

What was your experience like at the Library?

As a first-time Library user, I was a bit in awe, but there was no need for me to be intimidated. Even a beginner is treated like a scholar.

Can you comment of the value of the Library’s collections to researchers?

Viewing the original documents for me was invaluable, although perhaps on more of an emotional versus scholarly level. I could have saved myself the trouble and viewed the score and the playbill online. But reading the pieces firsthand helped me to find some of that long-ago island wonder that captivated the “Oz” artist.

For example, there’s the musical piece “Lily White” near the end of the musical. It was inspired by the cultivated lilies in Bermuda and maybe the wild ones around Denslow’s island home with its sunset views. With a little imagination, I could picture those same flowers on the browned pages dancing on Broadway more than 100 years ago.

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.

Jason Reynolds: Grab the Mic, March Edition

My mother is 75. And that means a lot. It means she’s lived over 27,000 days, which is a whole bunch of days. It means she remembers when watching television was for fancy people—a luxury. Same as running water. And electricity. She remembers the civil rights movement, the March on Washington, the death of Dr. King and President Kennedy. She remembers America going to war and to the moon and to the disco. She remembers the first computer, the first beeper (ask your parents) and the first cellphone. And it’s this last one, the cell phone—well, really the “smart” phone—that’s stumped her. It’s the smart phone, its glowing touchscreen and cartoonish icons, that’s turned her 75 years into what feels to her like 75 minutes.

Don’t get me wrong. She can answer the phone, and make calls. She can even text message, but this would require an entirely different newsletter to explain how long it took me to convince her to even try (she was always afraid she’d hit the wrong letters, as if that matters). I’ve even—and you won’t believe this—but I’ve even gotten her to FaceTime with me over the last year, even though she still doesn’t quite grasp the idea that she’s on speakerphone and doesn’t need to put the phone to her ear. And when she does, I get a full glimpse of what’s going on in her head. Literally.

But last week, she called me (on her house phone), distressed.

“J, I need you to teach me how to send pictures to people on my phone,” she said.

“You want to send someone pictures?”

“No,” she said. “But I want to know how to.”

So, I went to her house, and started the tutorial. First, I had to teach her how to take a photo. Then, I had to show her how to find the photo she’d taken. Then, I had to show her how to send it through text.

It took hours. HOURS. And she kept thanking me. Kept apologizing for not understanding this new language, this new (to her) technology. And I kept telling her it was fine. Because it was fine. As a matter of fact, it was better than fine. It was fantastic. Sure, there were frustrating moments, especially when she’d get frustrated with herself. And it was challenging for me to figure out new ways to explain things, reworking my own definitions to help her understand. To meet her where she was. We practiced and practiced, tried and tried, running through it again and again, me trying to help, her begging me not to. And eventually, that weird series of sounds we’ve all gotten used to came through. The sound of a cartoon droplet chimed from her phone, and the ding of a bell from mine. She’d sent. I’d received. She was happy. And I … was something else. I mean, I guess happy is one of the words I’d use. But I was also … full. Because I’d taught my mother something. I’d given the woman who has given me everything a new language. A new skill. A new opportunity to express joy. And in that moment, a moment where learning was recycled between the two of us like breath—she breathing out while I breathed in, only to breathe out again for her to inhale my breath, which was technically her old breath—life unto life, I realized that this is the true meaning of relationship. Of family.

Young reader, I want this for you. You know things your parents don’t know, just like they know things you don’t know. But the only way our specialties are activated is if we’re all open to learn, which means we all—yes, even your parents who are basically older kids—have to be willing to admit when we don’t know. Willing to make that call. Because it’s in the I don’t know where the new experience is. And it’s in the willingness to learn, where love feels electric.

And yes, she sends me pictures all the time.

And no, I can’t make out what any of them are.

Subscribe  to the blog— it’s free! — and the largest library in world history will send cool stories straight to your inbox.