Library of Congress's Blog, page 85

Hispanic Heritage Month: Mexican-Americans and Baseball

This is a guest post by Ryan Reft, a historian in the Manuscript Division. The post celebrates both National Hispanic Heritage Month and the Library’s ongoing exhibition Baseball Americana .

“I remember traveling to Lake Elsinore, which was a long way in those days. … [T]he only ride we could get was from a friend who hauled fertilizer in his truck, so all the guys crawled inside … and tried not to breath during the ride. By the time we arrived to play well we all smelled like fertilized fields. We did it because we loved the game.”

—Zeke Mejia, June 29, 1996, Press-Enterprise (Riverside, Calif.) 

For Mejia and thousands of other Mexican-Americans in Southern California during the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s, baseball served as a means both to demonstrate their belonging in the United States and to assert their unique identity. In Los Angeles, Orange and Riverside counties, Mexican-American teams dotted the landscape, creating a human geography of social, economic and political connections that helped buoy working-class communities, and even contributed to unionization efforts amid widespread discrimination, writes historian Jose M. Alamillo. For these players, referred to as “peloteros,” baseball clubs provided the critical foundation for larger collective action.

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Members of the Los Hermanos Peloteros Team in Los Angeles, 1932. Courtesy Shades of L.A. Photo Collection / Los Angeles Public Library.

Although the game first reached Mexico in the 1860s, it didn’t gain traction there until the dictatorship of Porfiorio Díaz, beginning in the 1870s. Under Diaz, the government encouraged industrialization and foreign investment. Predictably, American capital poured into northern Mexico; soon after, following U.S. railroad and mining expansion, baseball reached the nation’s more remote central and western regions.

U.S. investors and “Porfirian liberals” saw baseball as a useful means by which to introduce modern industrial values, such as teamwork and self-discipline, to the Mexican lower classes. Similarly, American companies operating in northern Mexico and Southern California viewed baseball as a vehicle for spreading industrialization and capitalism, particularly regarding the work habits of laborers.

By the 1920s, Mexican and Mexican-American labor occupied a critical, if underappreciated, place in the economies of California and the U.S. southwest. The rhetoric of the day described Mexicans in derogatory terms – even immigration advocates justified the migration of Mexican labor in racist terms.

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A Mexican laborer works in a field planted with cantaloupes in California’s Imperial Valley, 1937. Photo by Dorothea Lange.

While agricultural growers like Sunkist encouraged baseball clubs among their Mexican and Mexican-American workers to ensure workplace discipline and efficiency, peloteros competed for very different reasons. Teams like the Corona Athletics, the Oxnard Aces and the La Habra Juveniles, to name a few, helped to build community amid the segregated landscape of 1930s Southern California.

Teams sprouted from sports clubs, mutual-aid organizations, churches and even businesses. Organizations like the Asociacion Deportiva Hispano Americana and La Asociacion Atletica Mexican del Sure de California, formed in 1932 with help from the Los Angeles Department of Recreation, promoted the sport among Mexicans and Mexican-Americans. La Asociacion Atletica even formed a new baseball league, Liga Mexicana de Sur de California (Southern California Mexican Baseball League), which included over 15 amateur and semipro squads, including the El Paso Shoe Store Zapateros, the Oxnard Aces, La Habra Juveniles, Carta Blanca Cerveceros, Hermosa Mexican Club Pescadores, Santa Paula Limoneros, Placentia Merchants and the Corona Athletics.

Mexican-American businesses also staked a claim to the burgeoning sport. Hoping to capitalize on the growing Mexican and Mexican-American community in 1948, Mario Lopez and his partner Francisco “Pancho” Sornoso opened the Carmelita Provision Company in Los Angeles, a factory that marketed popular Mexican pork to Mexican-Americans.

Carmelita boomed. Soon Lopez founded the Los Chorizeros (“The Sausage Makers”), a team that would become the “New York Yankees of East Los Angeles.” One of the team’s many highlights was its victory in the 1961 Los Angeles City Final.

For some players, baseball provided a break from the numbing labor of agricultural fields and citrus groves; for others, it functioned an expression of identity and community; for still others, it served as a means for organizing workers.

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Mexican field laborers on strike in Bakersfield, Calif., in 1938. Photo by Dorothea Lange.

Labor militancy worried growers. World War I had threatened agricultural interests, as unionization began to gain adherents nationwide. Recreation programs were seen as antidote to such “radicalism.” The Los Angeles Department of Recreation often pointed out that baseball’s ideals of “good sportsmanship, fair play, team work, clean living, and plant loyalty” promised to create a “spirit of cooperation between employer and employee.”

Yet the experience of Mexican-American peloteros encouraged labor solidarity and ultimately promoted unionization among agricultural workers in the San Joaquin Valley and Southern California. Numerous ballplayers emerged as labor leaders and organizers, including several members of the Corona Athletics, who served as organizers for the United Cannery Agricultural Packing and Allied Workers of America. And many former Chorizeros, in addition to becoming educators, professors and community leaders, worked on political campaigns.

Likewise, political leaders and activists attended games, as did leaders of Mexican-American organizations and veterans groups. As Francisco E. Balderrama and Richard A. Santillan assert in “Mexican American Baseball in Los Angeles,” baseball, much like family and religion, served as the “institutional thread that united community.”

Following Jackie Robinson’s integration of Major League Baseball in 1947, several Mexican and native-born players of Mexican descent, all plying their trade in the Southern California league, received opportunities to compete in the minor leagues. Even California-born Mexican-Americans got into the act – San Gabriel Valley native Hank Aguirre signed with the Detroit Tigers in 1951.

Today, baseball’s place among Mexican-Americans might not be as dominant as it once was. Without doubt, however, baseball played a central role as the Mexican-American community expanded, fostering cultural identity among one of the nation’s fastest-growing populations.

The Mystery of James Madison’s Crystal Flute

It is well known that Dolley Madison rescued a now-iconic portrait of George Washington as she fled the White House on August 24, 1814, just before British troops set fire to Washington, D.C., during the War of 1812. Less well known is exactly what else she managed to take with her amid the chaos of the attack.

“At this late hour a wagon has been procured, I have had it filled with the plate and most valuable portable articles belonging to the house,” the first lady and wife to President James Madison wrote to her sister, Lucy Payne Washington Todd, in a letter she had started the day before. The articles packed reportedly included red-silk velvet draperies, a silver service and blue-and-gold Lowestoft china purchased for the state dining room.

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James Madison’s crystal flute, made by Claude Laurent. Photo by Shawn Miller.

Might an exquisite crystal flute made for James Madison by Claude Laurent of Paris – one of 20 Laurent glass flutes in the Library’s Dayton C. Miller Collection – also have been packed?

Laurent patented his “flute en cristal” in 1806 in France, winning a silver medal at the Paris Industrial Exposition the same year for his invention. Known for their intricate cut patterns and ornate jeweled keys, the instruments – which are functional – soon became very popular. They were owned by emperors, kings and other heads of state, including Madison.

Madison’s flute is distinctive in that Laurent made it specifically for him in honor of Madison’s second inauguration. Its glass is styled in a way that Laurent seems to have reserved for especially illustrious figures, and its silver joint is engraved with James Madison’s name and title and the year the flute was made: 1813.

The flute stands out among the Library’s Laurent holdings: it is one of only two made of crystal. Initially, all 20 Laurent flutes were thought to be crystal. But about five years ago, expert staff at the Library began to study the flutes to determine how to address worrying signs of deterioration on some of them.

Noninvasive analysis of the flutes’ composition using X-ray fluorescence showed that 18 of the flutes are actually made of potash glass as opposed to high-leaded glass, or crystal. Those 18 glass flutes remain precious – only 185 Laurent glass flutes survive worldwide today – but the crystal flutes are exceptionally rare.

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Laurent engraved Madison’s name and other identifying details on the crystal flute he made for Madison. Photo by Shawn Miller.

It isn’t totally clear how Madison’s flute made its way from Laurent to Madison, as no system for tracking package delivery existed in the early 1800s, and no record of the original arrival of the flute remains. We do know, however, that Madison received a letter in French dated March 25, 1815, inquiring about the arrival of “une flute en Cristal de mon invention” and asking whether Madison found the flute agreeable. The letter is cataloged under “Laurens” in Madison’s papers – the final letter in the signature is styled with a flourish, making it difficult to decipher.

One thing we know for certain about the flute is that Dolley Madison’s son from her first marriage, John Payne Todd, bequeathed the flute to Dr. Cornelius Boyle of Washington, D.C., in his will.

Cited as “the bad boy” in a White House Historical Association profile, Todd was known for gambling, womanizing and drinking – he was jailed several times for disturbing the peace. Yet he was also a lover of fine art, and both James and Dolley Madison helped to support him and get him out of scrapes. Apparently, at some point, one or the other bestowed the flute on Todd.

Dr. Boyle treated Todd before Todd died in 1852 at age 60, at which time he was in considerable debt. It is possible, but not certain, that Todd willed the flute to Boyle in payment for medical services.

In any case, Boyle’s heirs arranged for the flute to be exhibited in 1903 in the United States National Museum – part of the Smithsonian Institution – after which they sold the flute to Dayton C. Miller with the understanding that he would ensure its display in an important national museum.

Miller was an Ohio physicist with a passion for flutes and wind instruments. He donated his collection of more than 1,700 instruments, including the Madison flute, to Library of Congress in 1941.

So, was the crystal flute saved by Dolley Madison as she fled a White House under siege? The flute’s value, portability and origin – Madison was known to appreciate fine European goods – would seem to make it a likely candidate for rescue if it was indeed at the White House, as research into the Madisons’ whereabouts during the period suggests that it was. Many years later, in a letter to Dolley Madison, Thomas Ludwell Lee Brent, also seems to recall the flute having been in Washington: “How I should like to be in Washington this winter,” he wrote wistfully in 1842, “and play for you upon that sweet cristal flute.”

But, alas, unless or until more documentation about the precious flute’s history is unearthed, we will have no way to know for certain whether the flute escaped the White House with Dolley Madison in 1814.

Read more about the Dayton C. Miller Collection on the Library’s website.

This blog post incorporates research into the Library’s Claude Laurent flutes by Carol Lynn Ward-Bamford, senior curator of musical instruments; Lynn Brostoff, a chemist and conservation scientist in the Preservation Research and Testing Division; and Dorie Klein, an intern from Smith College who has worked with Ward-Bamford and Brostoff.

Inquiring Minds: Finding Jonathan Larson’s Lost Works in Tapes and Boxes

The following is a guest post by theater historian Jennifer Ashley Tepper, the creative and programming director at Feinstein’s/54 Below, a Broadway supper club in New York City. From October 9 to 14, the club will present “The Jonathan Larson Project,” a concert of previously unheard work by the late composer and playwright. Tepper, who conceived of the concert and directs it, writes here about how she found inspiration in the Library’s Jonathan Larson Collection . Tepper is also author of “The Untold Stories of Broadway” book series, producer of the musical “Be More Chill” and historian-consultant for the upcoming movie “Tick, Tick … BOOM,” based on Larson’s autobiographical musical. An expanded version of this post first appeared on “In the Muse,” the Library’s performing arts blog.

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Tepper’s April 1999 Bat Mitzvah sign-in board featured her popping out of a pile of playbills for the Jonathan Larson musical “Rent.”

I grew up inspired by Jonathan Larson’s musicals. Even as a teenager living in Boca Raton, Florida, I identified deeply with his ideals: with his unwavering dedication to art made from the heart, with his passion for bringing musical theater to a new generation, with the devotion to friendship and community layered into all of his work – and of course, with his undeniable genius in channeling all of this into characters, stories and songs that have changed the world.

When my close friend Jason SweetTooth Williams was appearing in “Freaky Friday” in Washington, D.C., in fall 2016, I went to visit him and spent a day at the Library of Congress, immersed in the Jonathan Larson Collection.

I have worked as a theater historian for almost a decade now, and nothing has knocked me out quite like this collection did that day.

There were hundreds of hours of audio recordings and hundreds of files of written material: each one incredible. I sat at the Library that day feeling like the little mermaid in her grotto, marveling at treasures galore from a time and place I longed to transport myself to: Jonathan Larson’s world.

The recordings included a momentous reading of Jonathan’s unproduced musical “Superbia,” followed by discussion of the piece with a panel of writers including Stephen Sondheim; a hilarious tune written on spec for “Saturday Night Live” with Ben Stiller and Jeff Kahn; mix tapes filled with pop and rock songs taped off the radio that inspired the characters of Larson’s smash musical “Rent”; songs from promising-but-never-produced musicals about presidential elections (“National Lampoon’s Tricentennial Revue”) and the end of the world (“1984”); and much more.

The written material was equally exhilarating to explore. A letter from theater producer Jeffrey Seller to Jonathan in 1990, telling him how much he’d loved his concert of “Boho Days” (an early version of “Tick, Tick … Boom!”); an outline for a musical version of “Polar Express”; original audition notes for “Rent” at New York Theatre Workshop; scripts and lyric drafts and budgets and programs and sheet music and photos and letters. Free-style essays. Lists of words. Journal entries.

I returned to the Library of Congress half a dozen times over the next year. I spent days going through the recordings and folders. After that first visit, I connected with Julie Larson, Jonathan’s sister, who generously gave me permission to go full steam ahead with my show “The Jonathan Larson Project.”

A piece featuring Jonathan’s unheard works deserved a creator who was going to listen to every tape and read every page. It was a privilege to do so. “Privilege” doesn’t cover it – it was the adventure of a theater historian’s wildest dreams. It was also at times devastating. With Jonathan’s voice in my ears and his papers in my hands, I could see with a new level of intimacy how hard he persevered and how ahead of his time he was.

Jonathan saved dozens of rejection letters. He rewrote shows endlessly. He did everything he could to try to convince the powers-that-be of the 1980s and 1990s that he was the future of musical theatre, that he was going to change its sound. He worked hard to create musicals and songs about what was really happening in the world, that sounded like the time he was living in. He pinched every penny and banged on every door. And he didn’t get to live to see that every dream he ever had came true.

Jonathan’s papers allowed me to see the man behind the work better than ever before. So much of theater history is about what’s scrawled in the margins. Jonathan’s margins are rich with details of his inspirations, frustrations, ideas and loves. I delighted in finding Jonathan’s “They’re Playing Our Song” playbill from when he saw the show on Broadway at age 18. On the cover he wrote down one Carole Bayer Sager lyric from the show in red pen: “Does the man make the music or does the music make the man?” On a notebook page related to “Rent,” Jonathan also scribbled the lyric from “Merrily We Roll Along” – “We’re opening doors” – and underlined it three times. Underneath it, he wrote “why they won’t ever sell out.” Finding Jonathan’s personal connections to other musical theater felt revealing and significant.

Even though 95 percent of what I discovered at the Library of Congress will not literally be part of “The Jonathan Larson Project,” it will all be part of the concert in a way. The opportunity to learn so much about a man and artist I have admired endlessly has impacted the piece immeasurably. I will be staging a cut song from “Superbia,” having read six drafts of the show. I will be collaborating with actors on songs about loss, knowing in detail about those friends Jonathan lost and loved dearly. I will be bringing to life songs that have never before been performed publicly, which reveal pieces of Jonathan’s life and era I understand profoundly because of all I was able to access.

Jonathan was indeed the future of musical theater, and his work changed the world. Now, because of this collection, new audiences will experience songs and ideas of Jonathan’s that were previously only experienced by one woman, wiping away tears at a library desk.

To days of inspiration.

Baseball and World War I

This is a guest post by Naomi Coquillon, an education specialist in the Interpretive Programs Office. The post ties together themes from two major concurrent exhibitions on display at the Library: Echoes of the Great War: American Experiences of World War I and Baseball Americana.

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American soldiers play baseball in France, circa 1917–18.

When the United States entered World War I on April 6, 1917, baseball had been known as the “national pastime” for 60 years and was on the cusp of a golden era. Wrigley Stadium was about to celebrate its third birthday. The Red Sox had just begun a sixth season in Fenway Park. Babe Ruth was almost three years into his storied career. And the massive national effort to raise an army and mobilize public support for the war touched nearly every aspect of American society – including the sport of baseball.

Major League Baseball players and teams supported the war effort by conducting demonstration trainings, opening stadiums for war-related charity events and participating in Liberty Loan bond drives – Christy Mathewson, pitcher for the New York Giants then manager for the Cincinnati Reds, helped sell more than $100,000 in bonds in a single day.

For American forces overseas, baseball was a means of boosting morale. The American military created 77 baseball diamonds in France, and on any given day some 200 games were played throughout the country. “The soldiers like to play ball. … You can’t get enough baseballs to go around here,” the Harrisburg (Pa.) Telegraph reported in August 1918.

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Jeff Tesreau

On the home front, shipyards and steel manufacturers hired professional baseball players to do industrial work and recruited them to play on company baseball teams. Workers in shipyards, steel mills and munitions factories were exempt from the draft; among the major leaguers who joined these teams were “Shoeless” Joe Jackson of the Chicago White Sox and Charles “Jeff” Tesreau, pitcher for the New York Giants. Although these games were reportedly well attended, the players were often derided as “slackers” and accused of taking these positions to avoid military service.

In May 1918, the Selective Service Division issued the “work or fight” rule, which stated that by July 1, all men of draft age not involved in “useful” work could be brought before a draft board and compelled to participate in war work or military service. The regulation came to include such service professions as elevator operators and doormen as well as those involved in games and sports.

According to historian Jim Leeke, author of “From the Dugouts to the Trenches: Baseball During the Great War,” approximately 38 percent of active Major League players went on to serve, and eight current or former players were either killed in action or died of illness during the war. Among them was former Philadelphia and Cincinnati third baseman Eddie Grant, who perished during the Meuse-Argonne offensive, during which he led troops on a search for the famous Lost Battalion.

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Branch Rickey

Future Hall-of-Famers Christy Mathewson and Ty Cobb served in the Chemical Warfare Service of the U.S. Army under Branch Rickey, the former manager of the St. Louis Browns who would go on to his greatest fame as general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers. Mathewson suffered exposure to gas during a training exercise that left his lungs permanently weakened; he died of tuberculosis in 1925. George Sisler, who would also be inducted into the Hall of Fame, trained for the Chemical Warfare Service but did not serve abroad.

Baseball players who served overseas made their way home during the winter of 1918–19, and Major League Baseball began a shortened season the following April. Fans and players alike looked forward to the sport’s return; as the New York Times reported in January 1919, “Baseball stands in high favor among the soldiers. Since the armistice was signed they have talked about nothing else but the game. They are all anxious to get back home to see a good ball game.”

If you plan to be in Washington, D.C., this fall, consider stopping by our Echoes of the Great War exhibition in person to learn more about the story of baseball during World War I. And visit our Baseball Americana exhibition, too, located in an adjacent gallery on the same floor of the Library’s Thomas Jefferson Building.

Gershwin Prize: Emilio and Gloria Estefan to Receive 2019 Award

This post’s publication coincides with our celebration today of George Gershwin’s birthday – he was born on Sept. 26, 1898, in New York City. The Library also announced today the availability of rare Gershwin home movies on its newly launched National Screening Room website.

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Emilio and Gloria Estefan. Photo by Omar Cruz. Courtesy of Crescent Moon, Estefan Enterprises Inc.

Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden announced this week that husband-and-wife team Emilio and Gloria Estefan are the next recipients of the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song. The honorees represent two firsts for the prize – they are the first married couple to receive the award and the first recipients of Hispanic descent.

The Estefans symbolize the rich cultural diversity of the American musical experience, the Library’s press release about the 2019 prize stated. They have created a unique sound of Latin rhythms that transcends cultural boundaries and have parlayed their creative genius into entrepreneurship and community activism, while propelling the careers of many of today’s Latino artists to stardom. During their more than 30-year career, the Estefans have built a musical empire and made listening to Cuban-infused music one of America’s favorite pastimes.

“The music created by Emilio and Gloria Estefan makes you want to listen to the beat and get on your feet,” said Hayden. “They are the creative force behind the popularity of music steeped in the Latino culture. This dynamic couple’s professional and personal journey truly mirrors the American dream, and we are so pleased to honor their musical legacy.”

Bestowed in recognition of the legendary songwriting team of George and Ira Gershwin, the Gershwin Prize recognizes a living musical artist’s lifetime achievement in promoting the genre of song as a vehicle of entertainment, information, inspiration and cultural understanding. Previous recipients are Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, Sir Paul McCartney, songwriting duo Burt Bacharach and the late Hal David, Carole King, Billy Joel, Willie Nelson, Smokey Robinson and Tony Bennett.

“From the moment I started singing, I was drawn to the iconic songs of the immensely talented Gershwin brothers and have had the privilege to record several of them,” said Gloria Estefan. “I am deeply honored, along with Emilio Estefan, my beloved husband of 40 years, to be the 2019 recipients of the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song. This award celebrates lifetime achievement in promoting song as a vehicle of musical expression and cultural understanding and we feel privileged to have been able to live our lives making and sharing music. We are profoundly humbled to have been chosen for this singular accolade.”

“My life and career in music has been a blessing and I’m humbled by this amazing honor and to be sharing it with my wife,” said Emilio Estefan. “I can only hope that our careers will influence a new generation of songwriters and producers. Throughout my career, my wish has always been to inspire minorities and to be an example that with hard work and dedication all your dreams can come true.”

Married since 1978, the Cuban-American Estefans started their rise to global fame in 1985 with Miami Sound Machine, creating a unique sound that blended Latin and pop rhythms. Many of their iconic hits, including “Conga,” “Turn the Beat Around,” “Get on Your Feet” and “Rhythm Is Gonna Get You,” reflect a combination of creative lyrics, high-octane rhythms and spirited vocals. The song “Rhythm Is Gonna Get You” is on the National Recording Registry, a listing of sound recordings selected for preservation because of their cultural, historic or aesthetic importance to the nation’s audio heritage.

The Estefans have won dozens of music-industry awards, including multiple Grammys, and their life story and music were showcased in the Broadway musical “On Your Feet!,” nominated for a Tony Award.

Beyond their musical talents, they are successful entrepreneurs, philanthropists and humanitarians. For this work, they have received awards including the Ellis Island Medal of Honor and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor.

The Estefans will receive the Gershwin Prize at an all-star tribute concert in Washington, D.C., in March. The concert will air on PBS stations nationwide in the spring (a date will be confirmed later) and will be broadcast on the American Forces Network to U.S. Department of Defense locations around the world.

“Emilio & Gloria Estefan: The Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Song” will be a co-production of WETA Washington, D.C.; Bounce, a division of Concord Music Group; and the Library of Congress. Major funding for the broadcast is provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, PBS and public television viewers. Additional funding is provided by The Ira and Leonore Gershwin Fund and The Leonore S. Gershwin Trust for the benefit of the Library of Congress Trust Fund Board, Michael Strunsky, Trustee; and Buffy Cafritz, Tom Girardi and Marjorie Fisher Furman. Air transportation is provided by United Airlines.

In making the selection for the prize, the Librarian of Congress consulted leading members of the music and entertainment communities, as well as curators from the Library’s Music Division, American Folklife Center and Motion Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound Division.

Hispanic Heritage Month: New Tools Uncover Surprises in Diego Rivera Paintings

This is a quest post by John Hessler, curator of the Jay I. Kislak Collection of the History and Archaeology of the Early Americas at the Library of Congress. He describes research and analysis he conducted with Tana Villafana and Meghan Wilson of the Library’s Preservation Research and Testing Division and Stephanie Stillo of the Rare Book and Special Collections Division.

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“The Creation,” by Diego Rivera, depicts two snake gods surrounding man, as told in the Maya creation myth, “Popol Vuh.” The work is watercolor and gouache on paper.

Diego Rivera (1886–1957) was by all measures one of the most important Mexican artists of the 20th century. His large-scale murals in cities like San Francisco, Mexico City, New York and Detroit transformed the style of public art across the U.S. and Mexico and brought transformational ideas from artists of the Parisian avant-garde to the Americas.

At the start of the 1930s, while Rivera was working in San Francisco, he started a project that was unlike much of his previous work. Long fascinated by ancient indigenous cultures of Mexico and Mesoamerica, Rivera was approached by the American writer and art critic John Weatherwax about doing a series of illustrations for an English translation of the Maya creation myth, the “Popol Vuh.”

Although Weatherwax’s translation was never published, Rivera completed a series of watercolors and gouache paintings to illustrate the text. Largely unknown to art historians and the public, three of the watercolors are part of the Library’s Jay I. Kislak Collection.

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“The Creation” undergoes hyperspectral imaging in the Library’s Preservation Research and Testing Division. Photo by Shawn Miller.

Because of their rarity and cultural uniqueness, a team of us – two curators and two scientists – recently decided to draw on advanced imaging and analysis tools available at the Library to gain a better understanding of the watercolors, both for art historical purposes and to inform the Library’s conservation of the paintings. Our work has uncovered intriguing details about Rivera’s technique and materials.

Before I explain, let me tell you a little more about the “Popol Vuh.” One of the great ancient creation stories of the indigenous peoples of the Americas, it narrates in poetic language the origins and history of the K’iche Maya from their beginnings in mythological time to around 1550.

Having its literary origins deep in the highlands of Guatemala, the “Popol Vuh” is thought to have been first transmitted orally, and perhaps later written down using Maya hieroglyphs, before being transcribed phonetically into the K’iche language by the Dominican priest Francisco Ximenez in the early 18th century. It is from Ximenez’ single surviving manuscript that all modern versions descend.

Rivera’s “Popol Vuh” paintings are smaller, less political and much more intimate than his large-scale public murals and show a stylistic sensibility that stems from Rivera’s studies and collecting of pre-Columbian art – the three watercolors appear to derive at least some of their general layout, color palette and themes from early Mesoamerican books or codices. Two of the Library’s paintings come from the early part of the book, called the “Creation” and “Trials of the Hero Twins”; the third depicts a later scene of human sacrifice before the fire god, Tohil.

To analyze works of art like the Rivera paintings, it is usually best to employ nondestructive methods. With that in mind, we selected three different techniques to examine Rivera’s underdrawings and the paints and pigments he used.

The first, hyperspectral imaging, involves digitally photographing an object at multiple wavelengths spanning the ultraviolet through the visible and into the near-infrared. Discrete components in an object – inks, glues, parchment – respond in unique ways to the different wavelengths.

Following imaging, we use software programs to analyze the mounds of data generated, which makes it possible to emphasize certain components in a painting while diminishing others. To help us perceive and interpret the findings, we apply unique colors to components that respond to light in the same way. The computer-derived colors we use do not represent anything in themselves – they simply show common areas of response to the various wavelengths used in hyperspectral imaging.

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A segment from “The Creation” following hyperspectral imaging and application of computer-derived colors reveals Rivera’s underdrawings and the watermark of the paper he used, which are impossible to see on the originals. Imaging and analysis by Meghan Wilson.

To get a more precise sense of the paints and pigments Rivera used, we drew on a second nondestructive method: fiber optic reflectance spectroscopy (FORS). It is a simple but powerful instrumental technique that uses a white light source and a spectrometer to measure the amount and the color of light that is reflected from an object. Light that is not reflected from the object has been absorbed, and many materials have unique absorption patterns. For example, using FORS on Rivera’s “The Human Sacrifice,” we detected the reflectance spectrum of Cobalt Blue, one of the pigments he favored.

The third technique we used, X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy (XRF), is more complex and is widely used to analyze chemicals and elements in art historical and archaeological objects. It bombards them, nondestructively, with high-energy X-rays in multiple precisely defined locations, inducing elements in an object’s pigments to emit secondary X-rays that can be captured and analyzed.

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XRF analysis of a segment from “The Creation” revealed that one of the paints Rivera used, Paris Green, is composed of copper and arsenic, making it toxic. Analysis by Tana Villafana.

Our analysis is continuing, but preliminary results – to our surprise – show that Rivera’s three “Popol Vuh” paintings are made up of very different pigment and paint palettes. Why Rivera, who worked on the series over a limited time, would have used modern paints on one painting and then switched to more organic paints on another for the same color remains a subject of study and an open question.

As our team of curators and scientists continues to explore the “Popol Vuh” paintings in coming months, we anticipate even more surprises. But, already, the project has made clear the new knowledge that can come about when scientists and curators work together to better understand the Library’s collections.

As for our users and patrons, we hope our work amply demonstrates that both the sciences and the arts are full of hidden surprises. For now, scroll down to view Rivera’s renderings of “Trials of the Hero Twins” and “Human Sacrifice Before Tohil.”

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“The Trials of the Hero Twins,” watercolor and gouache on paper. The main characters of the “Popol Vuh,” the hero twins Hunahpu and Xbalanque, are subjected to trials in the underworld from lances, cold, tigers, fire and bats.

 

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“Human Sacrifice Before Tohil,” gouache on paper. Tohil, the deity of fire and the source of warmth, demanded human sacrifice from the Maya who likened the god’s want of blood to an infant getting milk from its mother.

Gutenberg Bible To Be Presented in New Display Case Designed for Conservation

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The Library’s Gutenberg Bible in its current display in the Great Hall of the Thomas Jefferson Building. Photo by Michaela McNichol

For the first time in more than 70 years, the Gutenberg Bible at the Library of Congress will be moved into a new display case specially designed for the artifact’s long-term conservation and to better showcase the iconic book.

To prepare for the new exhibit, the Gutenberg Bible will be taken off view Friday, Sept. 21, while the current case is removed. A new display case will be installed in late October, and the Bible will be placed in its new home in late November or early December, once environmental testing is complete.

An 11-foot-tall vertical case has been designed for the Gutenberg Bible to meet exact specifications for its long-term conservation. It will be kept at a consistent, cool temperature of 50 degrees and a consistent humidity to help preserve the 563-year-old book, according to Elmer Eusman, chief of the Library’s Conservation Division. The case also includes a new early warning system for fire prevention that will constantly monitor the air.

Frosted mirrors and illumination within the display will create a special effect, emphasizing the Bible in a new way. Resting on a small cradle, the Bible will appear as if it’s floating. The design is meant to celebrate the historic book. Exhibition text will be presented on one side of the case for visitors.

The new case will be located in the same area as the Bible’s previous display in the corridor off of the Great Hall of the Library’s Thomas Jefferson Building. The new case has been built by a vendor off site. It will be deconstructed, moved into the Library and rebuilt in this final location. Installation is scheduled for the week of Oct. 29.

A facsimile of the Bible will be on display while the systems in the new case are tested. A temporary display case will show a facsimile until the new case is installed.

The Gutenberg Bible is one of the treasures of the Library’s collection. It was printed by Johann Gutenberg, who developed the mechanical printing press, and was likely completed in 1455. The Gutenberg Bible was the first great book printed in Western Europe with movable type, marking a turning point in bookmaking, communication and the dissemination of knowledge. About 180 copies of the Gutenberg Bible were printed, and fewer than 50 survive today. Only 21 copies are complete.

The Library of Congress copy consists of three volumes printed on vellum, a fine parchment made from animal skins. It is one of only a few perfect vellum copies known to exist. The others are at the Bibliothèque Nationale in France and the British Library. For nearly five centuries, the Library’s copy was in the possession of the Benedictine Order at monasteries in Austria. It was purchased in 1930 by an act of Congress.

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Trending: Congressional Research Service Reports Now Available Online

This is a guest post by Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden.

I’m pleased to announce that, for the first time, the Library of Congress is providing Congressional Research Service (CRS) reports to the public. The reports are available online at crsreports.congress.gov. Created by experts in CRS, the reports present a legislative perspective on topics such as agriculture policy, counterterrorism operations, banking regulation, veteran’s issues and much more.

Founded over a century ago, CRS provides authoritative and confidential research and analysis for Congress’ deliberative use.

The Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2018 directs the Library to also make CRS reports publicly available online. We worked closely with Congress to make sure that we had a mutual understanding of the law’s requirements and Congress’ expectations in our approach to this project.

The result is a new public website for CRS reports based on the same search functionality that Congress uses – designed to be as user friendly as possible – that allows reports to be found by common keywords. We believe the site will be intuitive for the public to use and will also be easily updated with enhancements made to the congressional site in the future.

Moving forward, all new or updated reports will be added to the website as they are made available to Congress. The Library is also working to make available the back catalog of previously published reports as expeditiously as possible. More details about this process can be found on the site’s Frequently Asked Questions page.

CRS reports supplement the official congressional information the Library provides on its congress.gov website.

In keeping with our desire to engage users with the Library and its materials, we are happy to see these reports put to the widest use possible. I hope that you find them a useful addition to the many resources available to you from the Library of Congress.

Any Questions? When Students Want to Know, They Ask a Librarian

This is a guest post by Danna Bell of the Library’s Educational Outreach Office. It first appeared in “A Library for Kids,” the September–October issue of LCM, the Library of Congress Magazine. The issue is available in its entirety online.

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Photo by Shawn Miller.

Why do pigeons bob their heads when they walk? Are children allowed in the Library of Congress? What is the smallest book at the Library? What is the favorite book of the Librarian of Congress?

What do these questions have in common? They’re all questions sent by kids to the Library of Congress.

The Library receives about 400,000 reference questions a year from people around the world, and it has a team of experts ready to respond quickly and accurately to users. The Library of Congress is for everyone, and kids are welcome to ask questions, just like adults do.

Some kids get in touch because they’re looking for homework help. Some are getting ready for competitions like National History Day. Some are just following their own curiosity or searching for answers to a question inspired by a book, a movie or a conversation with their friends.

The Library’s experts treat questions from kids the same way they treat questions from adults: They read each question very carefully and think about the best way to help. Then they respond as soon as they can – usually within a few days. They don’t always provide the answer, but will often suggest books, websites and other resources to help kids find the answer for themselves.

Here are a few of our favorite questions from young scholars:

“I am studying Roberto Clemente. Do you know what he ate? Could you tell me what condiments he used to eat?”
“How many brothers and sisters did Pocahontas have?”
“Did Cesar Chavez have any pets? What did he like to do when he was a kid?”
“Do you have any books about homework and its effect on the human brain? I would like to be able to prove that homework is bad for you.”

Some kids take their questions right to the top, to the person in charge of the Library of Congress, Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden. They’ve sent her handwritten letters wondering:

“Is it fun to be the Librarian of Congress?”
“Did you always like libraries from the start?”

As with the adults who ask questions, the young scholars appreciate the help they get and often are eager to show it, with a hand-drawn thank-you card, a note decorated with “balloons of love,” feedback about a meeting with the librarian of Congress (“in addition, when you did the dab that was cool”) – or even, perhaps, an invitation.

“I will stay in touch and write more letters to you,” one young correspondent wrote to Hayden. “Do you like Indian food? My mom and dad make out of this world paneer and if you have the time, can you have dinner with us?”

The Library loves to get questions from kids – and from anyone! The easiest way to ask a question is to visit the Ask a Librarian page on the Library’s website. Of course, if 30 students all from the same class all send questions at the same time, chances are good that our reference librarians will reach out to the school’s librarian and alert him or her so that he or she can work with the teacher to support the students’ curiosity with local resources.

Are you wondering about the answers to the questions in the first paragraph above?

Pigeons bob their heads because it helps them see. This question and its answer eventually ended up on the Business, Science and Technology Division’s Everyday Mysteries website.
Yes, kids of all ages are welcome in the Library of Congress. And anyone over 16 is welcome to do research in our reading rooms.
Our smallest book, “Old King Cole,” is about the size of the period at the end of this sentence.
Hayden’s favorite book is “Bright April,” by Marguerite De Angeli.

Latin at the Library: Colonial and Early American Writings

This is a guest post by Andrew Gaudio, a reference librarian in the Researcher and Reference Services Division.

As the Library of Congress’ specialist in Latin language and literature, I have come to appreciate a small but important body of Latin texts from the American British colonies and early United States written during the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. The Library holds most of these early American Latin texts.

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In 1625, the first poem written in the English colonies in both Latin and English described the cultural interactions of immigrants with native peoples.

Early American Latin writings can be found in many different sources, such as church records, obituaries, private journals, university records, eulogies and theological works. For example, since early American universities held instruction in Latin, and because Latin was the lingua franca among scholars, many early university records and documentation are in Latin as well. Indeed, historical records from most colleges founded in 17th- or 18th-century colonial New England will contain some Latin. In Samuel Eliot Morison’s “Harvard College in the Seventeenth Century,” he mentions two especially interesting Latin texts in the Harvard University archives, one prose and one a poem, each written by Native American students in the 1650s. These texts are significant as the only surviving Latin writings composed by Native Americans.

The Library’s collections of early American Latin writings are not confined to print availability. George Washington and Thomas Jefferson are among the Founding Fathers who at times corresponded in Latin, and a few Latin items in their papers can be found online.

Additionally, a database to which the Library subscribes, “Early English Books Online,” contains the earliest poem written in the English colonies in 1625 in both Latin and English. The poem is called “New England; or, A briefe enarration of the ayre, earth, water, fish and fowles of that country, with a description of the natures, orders, habits, and religion of the natives; in Latine and English verse,” and it describes the flora, fauna and cultural interactions of the natives and Puritans.

Two biographies of George Washington in the Library’s general collections, both published in 1835, demonstrate the widespread use of Latin during the early Republic. Both were written in 1835: “Washingtonii Vita” was written by Francis Glass, a schoolteacher from Ohio, and “Georgii Washingtonis Vita” was written by William Lance, an attorney from Charleston, South Carolina. The existence of these biographies indicates the facility with which those who were educated could compose in Latin. Included here is the Latin text of the first page of the latter biography, followed by an English translation to give a flavor of the style of writing frequently employed in Latin:

[image error]“The North American states were colonies in the beginning. Formerly 13 in number, there are presently 24 states. Originally separate, each state united together into a federation and finally joined in a pact of solidarity. Nevertheless, they have been joined together and bound under one authority in such a way that the ancestral and original powers – not granted to the federal body or not forbidden by them – are reserved to them individually or to the entire people. To the original members of the republic, 10 have been added through division or migration, and only one by purchase. Part of the Republic formerly belonged to the British Empire, just as that very Britain formerly belonged to Ancient Rome. Nonetheless, having considered this distinction, Britain and its people and province were conquered and subdued. America always unconquered, remains provincial, or rather free.”

To learn more about Latin-language materials and resources at the Library, search our online catalog.