The Patriarch and Matriarch of the Albemarle County Rushes

Posted on March 26, 2014 by

This week, we are very pleased to feature a guest post from Special Collections Reference Coordinator Regina Rush.

“…and they stopped in my vision and looked up at me like I had something…to tell or something that needed to be seen or they wanted something to be remembered. So I kinda get this sense that it is time to understand what it must have been like.”

–African-American genealogist Tonya Groomes,
in the documentary Slavery by Another Name

My pursuit for information about the Rush branch of my family began shortly after I began working in the Special Collections Library in the late nineties.

What I knew about my family’s history could be summed up on a notecard. My paternal grandfather’s name was James Neverson Rush; he married my grandmother, Roberta Brooks; and they raised eleven children in a place called Chestnut Grove, a small unincorporated community in Esmont, Virginia, nestled in the Green Mountains of Southern Albemarle County.

An initial conversation with my father helped fill in a few gaps, but certainly not enough to satisfy my curiosity. I learned that my paternal great grandmother’s name was Ella Rush, but beyond that he knew very little of the Rushes’ history. With my appetite sufficiently whetted and wanting to know MORE! MORE! MORE! I embarked on a genealogical quest to “meet” my people. As one genealogist has put it, “When you search for your ancestors, you find great friends.”

Well, not only did I find “great friends,” I found them under my feet at my job, one floor below in the stacks of the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library: they were my great-great grandparents, Nicey Ann Coles and Isham Rush.

Here’s how it happened

One Saturday afternoon while visiting my Cousin Gloria, our conversation turned to the subject of our family’s history. After sharing various family anecdotes, I asked her, “Cousin Gloria, do you have any idea what slaveholder owned our family?” I’d been researching my family’s history for several years, and despite numerous conversations with family members, visits to historical societies, and searching various genealogical databases, this key piece of family lore continued to elude me. So imagine my shock and elation when she responded in her slow, sweet, quiet voice, “Honey, our people were owned by the Rives Family.”

THE RIVES FAMILY??!!

As in the, Special Collections holds numerous collections of this family’s papers, Rives Family? Over the course of the next several weeks, I painstakingly worked my way through collection after collection of Rives papers held at Special Collections. One day, while searching through the papers of a Rives named Robert, I happened upon a letter dated March 24, 1851 to Robert Rives from his sister-in-law, Maria, discussing a recent visit to his home, Oakland, and the declining health of his brother George. I quickly skimmed the contents of the first page and flipped it over. My eyes were immediately drawn to a list of thirty-four names written at the bottom of the page. Excitement slowly began to build in me. Almost afraid to breathe, I quickly scanned the list. PAYDIRT! Number 22 on the list was the name “Nicey.”

March 24, 1851 letter to Robert Rives Jr. from his sister- in- law, Maria Rives. In the letter Maria writes about a recent visit to Rives and his family at their home called Oakland, and the declining health of his brother George. The contents of the letter has no connection to the list found at the bottom of page two. Rives uses the bottom of the page as scratch paper to list the names of 34 of his slaves and supplies purchased for them. The number 22 on the list is my great-great grandmother, Nicey Ann Coles. (Image by Regina Rush)

. In the letter Maria writes about a recent visit to Rives and his family at their home called Oakland, and the declining health of his brother George. The contents of the letter has no connection to the list found at the bottom of page two. Rives uses the bottom of the page as scratch paper to list the names of 34 of his slaves and supplies purchased for them. The number 22 on the list is my great-great grandmother, Nicey Ann Coles. (MSS 4289: March 24, 1851 letter from Maria Rives to her brother-in-law, Robert Rives Jr. Image by Regina Rush)

Detail of Nicey’s name as it appears on the list shown above. (Image by Regina Rush)

Uncovering the stories of Nicey Coles Rush and Isham Rush

Nicey Ann Coles was born circa 1823 in Nelson County, Virginia, most likely on one of the several plantations owned by Robert Rives, Sr. (1764-1845), a wealthy international merchant, who farmed tobacco and wheat, but most importantly owned both my great-grandparents. Nothing is known about Nicey’s parents. Information provided on her 1868 marriage license lists only her father’s last name, which is “Coles.” For reasons unknown, her mother’s name is not listed at all. In all likelihood, both she and her parents lived as slaves on Oak Ridge, the 2555 acre Nelson county, Virginia, estate owned by the Rives family. Oak Ridge was originally an 800-acre tract owned by Colonel William Cabell (1730-1798). Cabell later gave it as a gift to his daughter, Margaret Jordan Cabell, and his son-in-law, Robert Rives, Sr. (1764-1845).

Very little is known about Isham Rush, Nicey’s husband: his birth and death dates and parents’ names remain a mystery. Isham was possibly born enslaved on the Rives Plantation in South Warren, Albemarle County. Census records of his children confirm that Isham was a native Virginian. Three of his children record him as their father on their marriage licenses. By 1868, he disappears from public record. His oldest child was his namesake (spelled “Isom” in the 1870 census) and down through the generations some variation of the name continues to be used. Even today, more than a 150 years later, Isham remains in the family: one of my paternal uncles was named John Isom Rush.

How long Nicey lived and worked on the Rives’ plantation in Nelson is unclear. Records reveal that she was relocated at some point to one of the Rives’ Albemarle County plantations, referred to as the South Warren Estate. This estate was originally owned by Robert Rives Sr., but upon his death it passed on to his son Robert, Jr. (1798-1866). Robert, Jr. was born in Nelson County in 1798. He represented Nelson County in the House of Delegates during 1823-1829 and afterward moved to Albemarle County, eventually becoming one of the wealthiest men in Virginia before the Civil War. The 1860 census record his assets at $280,000; most of his wealth was lost during the Civil War.

Records reveal that my great-great grandparents had a longstanding relationship of more than 13 years on the South Warren Estate and managed to raise a family–as much as one could within the restrictive confines of slavery. Their children’s names were Ella (my great grandmother), Cecelia, Louisiana, Lucy, Isham, Neverson and Fleming. Some evidence suggest they had as many as ten children, but more research needs to be done before this can be confirmed. The Rush families of Chestnut Grove appear to be descended from two of their children, Ella and Louisiana Rush.

The following images were obtained from several plantation records of Robert Rives and provide brief snippets of information concerning Nicey and Isham’s existence at the South Warren Estate, in Warren Virginia.

In an account book held by the Special Collections Library Rives purchases 8 yards of check cotton and 10 yards of Osnaburg fabric for Nicey for $6.14. On the opposite page of Nicey's entry is written the name Isham and under the name "suit of clothes $18.00. The entry dates listed on 1823 but the entry was to have been made much later. Most likely sometime in the 1840's Robert Rives Blacksmith Shop Account Book, 1823; 1843-1846, Accession #4655 (Image by Regina Rush)

An account book held by the Special Collections Library shows that Rives purchased eight yards of check cotton and ten yards of Osnaburg fabric for Nicey for $6.14. On the opposite page of Nicey’s entry is written the name Isham and under the name, “suit of clothes $18.00” (see next image). While the page includes other entries as early as 1823, these entries likely date to the 1840s.
(MSS 4655: Robert Rives Blacksmith Shop Account Book, 1823; 1843-1846. Image by Regina Rush)

On this page of the Rives account book, opposite of Nicey's entry is written the name Isham and under the name "suit of clothes $18.00. The entry dates listed on 1823 but the entry was to have been made much later. Most likely sometime in the 1840's Robert Rives Blacksmith Shop Account Book, 1823; 1843-1846, Accession #4655 (Image by Regina Rush)

Opposite Nicey’s entry is written the name “Isham” and under the name “suit of clothes $18.00.” (Image by Regina Rush)

A discovery in Scottsville

Things got even more interesting when I contacted the Scottsville Museum, after discovering online that they had Rives-related papers. First, I found a relevant entry in a business ledger of Robert Rives, Jr., which is owned by the Scottsville Museum. It lists Rives’ purchase of shoes for some of his slaves. Among the names on the list are my great-great grandparents, Isham Rush and Nicey Ann Coles. It reads “Shause (Shoes) bought on South Warren Estate June 18, 1849 for the negroes, vis Cyrus, Ben, Robin, Isham, Melvin, Daniel, Washington, Jurdan, Nick, Sophy, Nicey, Jincey, Bevly.” (Robert Rives Ledger 1846-1863. Page 12, Image 8, Scottsville Museum, Scottsville, Virgina).

Entry from the business ledger of Robert Rives, Jr. Rives lists shoes that he purchased for some of his slaves. Among the names on the list are my great-great grandparents, Isham Rush and Nicey Ann Coles. (Robert Rives Ledger 1846-1863. Page 12, Image 8, Scottsville Museum, Scottsville Virginia)

The year 1851 was an eventful one for Nicey. In January 1851, she gave birth to Ella Rush, my great grandmother. Another document indicated that sometime later that year, she attempted to escape from South Warren.

Wait, my great-great grandmother ATTEMPTED TO ESCAPE!!!!!

A September 20, 1851 ledger entry made by Rives reveals that Nicey’s attempt was not successful: “Paid H.D. Robertson for the apprehension of Nicey and mileage there with $7.25.” I wondered at this series of events. Ella is listed in census records as the oldest of Nicey’s children. Perhaps there is a correlation between the two events–her pregnancy and her escape. But no documentation has been uncovered to support this.

The year 1851 was an eventful one for Nicey. January 1851, she gave birth to Ella Rush, my great grandmother. Sometime later that year she attempted to escape from South Warren. This September 20, 1851 ledger entry made by Rives reveals her attempt was not successful. "Paid H.D. Robertson for the apprehension of Nicey and mileage there with $7.25." Ella is listed in census records as the oldest, perhaps there is a correlation between the two events-her pregnancy and her escape. but no documentation has been uncovered to support this. Robert Rives Ledger 1846-1863. Page 33, Image 18, Scottsville Museum, Scottsville Virginia.

Nicey’s apprehension is documented on the second and third lines of this page. (Robert Rives Ledger 1846-1863. Page 33, Image 18, Scottsville Museum, Scottsville Virginia.)

Albemarle County Courthouse records helped me understand what happened to Nicey after the Civil War, and after Isham Rush disappeared from public record, presumably deceased. On September 18, 1868, Nicey and a man named Paul Moseley went to the Albemarle County Courthouse to obtain a marriage bond. Two days later, on September 20, 1868, they were married at the Chestnut Grove Church in Esmont, Virginia by a minister named Alexander White.

Marriage license of Nicey Ann Coles and Paul Moseley, September 18, 1868. Courtesy of the Albemarle County Courthouse, Charlottesville, Virginia, 22902 (Image by Regina Rush)

By 1870 Nicey was 47 years old, still residing in Warren, Virginia. She shared a home with her husband, 47-year-old Paul Moseley, her 12-year-old stepson Paul Jr., and all seven of her children. Ella, 20; Cecelia,18; Lucy, 16; Louisiana, 3; Isham, 13, Neverson, 11; Fleming, 7; and her granddaughter Sophronia, Ella’s 11-month-old daughter. The 1870’s saw Nicey’s daughters Cecelia and Lucy married and out on their own. Her son and step-son had either died or migrated to another area by 1880.

The 1880 census shows that Nicey and her family had moved to Scottsville, near to Cecelia. The census reveals that her husband was still alive and only three of her children remained in her household–Isham, Fleming, Louisiana. Nicey died sometime between 1880 and 1900.

From the first time I looked at the 1870 census record for the Rush line of my family, I felt compelled to learn their stories. Over more than fifteen years of digging into my family’s ancestry, I have amassed quite a bit of raw data that screams out to be put in some sort of form that tells their story. Notes from Under Grounds proved to be the perfect launching pad. It is my honor and privilege to tell the story of my great-great grandparents. I dedicate this blog post to them, the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Albemarle County Rushes of Chestnut Grove. World, I introduce to you Nicey Ann Coles and Isham Rush, my new friends.

Regina Rush, Reference Coordinator, March 26, 2014. (Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

Regina Rush Special Collections Reference Coordinator, March 26, 2014. She holds one of the Rives ledgers that has helped her recover her family history. (Photograph by Molly Schwartzburg)

Special thanks to the Scottsville Museum and the Albemarle County Courthouse for permission to share images from their collections.

ABCs of Special Collections: X is for…

Posted on March 24, 2014 by

Welcome back to the ABCs of Special Collections! We are excited to bring to you, the letter

X made from two small blades from the tools ()

“X” made from two small blades from the studio of the Warren Chappell Studio. (MSS 10204-bc. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

X is for X-Rated

X is for Henry Miller’s banned book Tropic of Cancer, published in 1934 by the Obelisk Press in Paris. The book was deemed illegal for sale in the United States, Great Britain, and Canada upon publication and remained so for almost thirty years. In 1961, Barney Rosset, publisher of The Grove Press, convinced Miller to let him publish Tropic of Cancer, promising to fight censorship laws all the way to the Supreme Court. In 1964 the U.S. Supreme Court overruled earlier state court findings that Tropic of Cancer was obscene. This case was a landmark case concerning censorship, and opened the doors for a much wider acceptance of previously censored art.

Contributed by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

First edition of Tropic of Cancer, 1934. (PS3525 .I5454 T7 1934. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

X is for Xylographica

Very rare books indeed! Dating from approximately 1450, xylographica are block books made by carving text and illustrations into wooden blocks. Usually the books are not more than 50 leaves, and are considered incunabula, (as they date before 1501) and the content is almost exclusively religious in nature.

Donna Stapley, Assistant to the Director

Facsimile of Das puch von dem Entkrist/Blockbucher. The original was made in 1450, and the facsimile was created in 1925. (Typ 1450 .A57 1925. Stone Typography Collection. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Facsimile of Ars moriendi. The original was made 1470, and the facsimile was created in 1910. (Typ 1470 .A77. Stone Typography Collection. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Of course, wood block printing has remained popular long after moveable type superceded the labor intensive process of producing xylographica. For example, shown here are some wood carving tools from the 20th-century studio of Warren Chappell. Shown are a wood block and an engraving cushion, burnisher, and two small blades. (MSS 10204-bc. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

X is for the XYZ Affair

Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, John Marshall, and Elbridge Gerry were sent to France by President John Adams in July 1797 with instructions to renegotiate the 1788 treaty between the two nations, ensure French acceptance of the Jay Treaty, and resolve issues concerning the seizure of American merchant ships by the French navy. Charles Maurice de Talleyrand, French foreign minister, approached the American commissioners through agents who demanded bribes before formal negotiations could begin. Although such demands were not uncommon in European diplomacy of the time, the Americans were outraged and left France without undertaking formal negotiations. The publication of the commission’s dispatches (the letters X, Y, and Z, substituting for the names of the French diplomats) created a political firestorm in the United States that resulted in several years of undeclared naval warfare against France.

Contributed by Edward Gaynor, Head of Description and Specialist for Virginiana and University Archives

Thomas Jefferson to John Wayles Eppes, May 6, 1798. Jefferson describes the “ferment excited here [Philadelphia] by publication of the dispatches” and discusses the possibility of war. (MSS 501. Gift of Mrs. F.B. Stoneman. Image by Edward Gaynor)

Verso of letter from Thomas Jefferson to John Wayles Eppes, May 6, 1798. (MSS 501. Gift of Mrs. F.B. Stoneman. Image by Edward Gaynor)

(Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Image by Edward Gaynor. )

Title page of Instructions to the Envoys Extraordinary and Ministers Plenipotentiary from the United States of America, to the French Republic. (A 1798 .U54. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Image by Edward Gaynor. )

Page of dispatch describing request for bribes. (A 1798 .U54. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History. Image by Edward Gaynor. )

Guess what we have in store for you with the remaining two letters of the alphabet? You will have to wait until next month when we feature the letters “Y” and “Z.”

The Media Studies Experience: Restoration Ball Throughout the Decades

Posted on March 21, 2014 by

We are pleased to feature a guest post by Susan Gravatt, Fourth-Year Media Studies major/Religious Studies minor and blogger for The Media Studies Experience.

Saturday, March 22, 2014, from 9pm to midnight on Peabody Lawn, students will come together for the 51st Annual Restoration Ball. Each $25 ticket enables students and alumni of the University of Virginia to support the restoration of the Rotunda.

Just as the Rotunda has seen numerous changes and renovations in the past, the Restoration Ball itself has evolved in unusual and surprising ways since it began in the 1960s. In sifting through materials at the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library, I had the unique opportunity to step back in time and follow the history of this grand occasion.

One of the many posters from the Restoration Ball Ephemera collection, 1981. (LD5680 .R87 R47. Photograph by Susan Gravatt)

I’m not sure exactly when I first heard about this year’s Restoration Ball, but I do know that I found out about it through the now-standard event invitation service that Facebook provides. While posters certainly may be on Grounds (though I have personally not seen any), the Restoration Ball ephemera collection includes a series of posters from the 1960s to the 1980s. Some of the posters feature photographs of the Rotunda while others, like the one above, showcase a drawing or sketch.

Part of me is somewhat sad that these posters are not more abundant today. As I flipped through and photographed these older relics in Special Collections, I couldn’t help but wonder what materials will enter the library to mark the 51st event? Will Special Collections print a screenshot of the Restoration Ball website or the Facebook event? There is a certain nostalgia or romanticism that this poster and the others like it evoke, but checking out the online information about this year’s ball doesn’t have the same effect. Having the ability to hold a poster in my own hands made an event prior to my own birth come to life for me.

Restoration Ball in the Rotunda, May 15, 1965 (RG-30/1/10.011. University of Virginia Image by U.Va. Digitization Services)

Before my visit to Special Collections, I did not realize that the Restoration Ball took place in many different locations throughout the years. As the image above shows, many of the earlier balls were actually held in the Rotunda! According to the primary sources I consulted, by the 1980s, there was a permanent move away from the Rotunda and to Newcomb Ballroom, Peabody Lawn, and other larger, open spaces across Grounds that could accommodate a growing student body. Although I am excited to attend the event myself tomorrow evening, I must say that I am envious of those who danced in the Rotunda. For now, I’ll have to live vicariously through this photograph of past students who enjoyed that luxury. But what I wouldn’t give to have attended the ball in 1965…

Restoration Ball Dance Booklet (Photograph by Susan Gravatt)

A dance request booklet for Restoration Ball guests. (LD5680 .R87 R47. Photograph by Susan Gravatt)

Inside of dance request booklet. (LD5680 .R87 R47. Photograph by Susan Gravatt)

Although I spent almost an hour combing through the various articles and objects in the ephemera collection, the dance request booklet is, perhaps, my favorite find. Because tomorrow night’s Restoration Ball will be my first, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. However, I suspect I will not make song or dance requests to a deejay or live band by writing them down in a booklet. This nifty item enabled guests in the past to do just that.

My research on the Restoration Ball this week left me feeling the way that I do many times after leaving Special Collections. I always wonder how much students would enjoy this rich resource if they really understood the depths of its archives. Special Collections is not a building full of artifacts but rather a home for treasures that gives students a taste of both the history of Charlottesville and the University of Virginia.

Special Collections makes history real and exciting because it enables me to put my student experience in a broader context. I am attending the Restoration Ball in 2014, yes, but I am becoming part of a tradition that has spanned for decades. Special Collections documents these histories and activities that are intrinsic and central to the core of student life at the University of Virginia.

But if dancing and Restoration Balls aren’t your thing, I guarantee that if you spent time in Special Collections, you would discover surprising parallels between the past and your time and interests at U.Va., and beyond.

My research in Special Collections gave me one more reason to get excited about my first Restoration Ball and the 51st for the University of Virginia, tomorrow night.

This Just In: Disability in the Archives

Posted on March 20, 2014 by

“Disability in the Archives,” case 1

On February 27-28 U.Va. hosted “Disabling Normalcy,” an interdisciplinary conference organized by Christopher Krentz, Associate Professor of English and Director of American Sign Language. In conjunction with the conference, Prof. Krentz and graduate student Philip Timmerman prepared an exhibition, “Disability in the Archives,” which is on view in the first floor gallery of the Small Special Collections Library through April 26. Drawn entirely from our holdings, the exhibition features books, manuscripts, and photographs relating to the deaf, blind, physically handicapped, and mentally ill.

“Disability in the Archives,” case 2

The exhibition includes several recent acquisitions, some obtained before Prof. Krentz proposed the exhibition and others acquired since, partly with the exhibition in mind. In this post we feature a few of these items, including several omitted from the exhibition for want of space.

Efforts to educate the blind and vision-impaired received a major boost in the early 19th century with the invention of various tactile reading systems. Although Louis Braille’s dot system has become the international norm, raised letter systems were standard in the United States until the early 20^th century. The first to be introduced was “Boston line,” an adaptation by Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe of a Scottish raised-letter alphabet. Much as a type designer adjusts letterforms for legibility, Howe adapted the shapes of letters and numerals so that, when embossed in paper in high relief, they could be more easily distinguished by touch. In 1835 Howe established a press at the New England Asylum for the Blind in Boston (now the Perkins School for the Blind in Watertown, Mass.), where he proceeded to print many raised-letter books for the blind.

Cast list for a benefit performance of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, by the “Perkins Players” of the Perkins School for the Blind in Watertown, Mass., May 1917. This raised-print program was set in Boston line and printed at the school. (HV1796 .M46 P4 1917)

We recently added an unusual Boston line imprint to our Joseph M. Bruccoli Great War Collection: a theater program for two benefit performances of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice, held in May 1917 at the Perkins School and featuring Perkins students as actors, musicians, and dancers. Proceeds went to the American, British, French, Belgian Permanent Blind Relief War Fund, which assisted Allied soldiers blinded in battle.

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Ugly Duckling, from Fancies of Child-Life (Louisville, Ky.: American Printing House for the Blind, 1877). (PZ7 .F1997 1877)

Following the Civil War, the American Printing House for the Blind in Louisville, Kentucky, became the leading American supplier of raised-letter texts. The APHB employed a modified form of Boston line for its publications until 1893, when Braille was first introduced. At the Boston International Antiquarian Book Fair we acquired a copy of the 1877 APHB edition of Fancies of Child-Life, a collection of children’s stories by Hans Christian Andersen and Harriet Beecher Stowe. This copy was sent to the Virginia Institute for the Deaf, Dumb, and Blind in Staunton, Va., where in 1893 it was presented as a school prize “For learning to read in one Session” to Edgar Hickam. A blind resident of Maces Spring, Va. (in the extreme southwest region bordering Tennessee), Hickam was well known locally as a musician and piano tuner, though celebrity would fall, not to him, but to his neighbors, the Carter Family.

The Rev. William Moon’s simplified manual alphabet, in Light for the blind: a history of the origin and success of Moon’s system of reading (embossed in various languages) for the blind (London: Longmans & Co., 1873). (HV1678 .M84 1873)

Perhaps Boston line’s primary shortcoming was that it adopted essentially the same rather complex letterforms employed for written and printed texts. Hence publications in Boston line are more easily read by eye than by touch. In 1847 the Rev. William Moon of Brighton, England, invented a simplified alphabet better suited to touch. It consisted of “six of the roman letters unaltered, twelve others with parts left out, and six new and very simple forms, which may be easily learned by the aged, and persons whose fingers are hardened by work.” Moon’s Light for the blind (London, 1873) describes his invention, provides a list of available publications, and chronicles his labors on behalf of the blind.

We know far less about the history of mapmaking for the blind, and embossed maps are very uncommon. Hence we were delighted to acquire at the California International Antiquarian Book Fair a fine copy of a world atlas for the blind published in Germany in the mid-1930s. The challenge was a straightforward one: how to convert two dimensions into three so that cartographic information could be conveyed by touch? Here the solution was to emboss maps in high relief on durable kraft paper. Geographic and topographic features are differentiated as follows: coastlines by dotted lines, political boundaries by dashed lines, rivers by solid lines, oceans by a uniform pattern of small dots in low relief, and so on, with captions added in Braille.

A manual alphabet from a collection of ornamental alphabets, Recueil d’alphabets, dedié aux artistes (Paris & New York: L. Turgis jeune, [ca. 1845?]. (NK3600 .B65 1845)

Last month we acquired a rare mid-19^th century alphabet book, with a dual Paris & New York imprint, consisting of 24 lithographic plates bearing elaborate ornamental alphabets. These were intended as inspiration for artists, signmakers, and others seeking out-of-the-ordinary letterforms. Imagine our surprise to find on the penultimate plate the standard manual alphabet on which various sign languages used by the deaf (including American Sign Language) are based.

“Nervous disorder” conveyed in verse, in Miscellaneous reflections. In Verse (Greenfield, Mass.: Thomas Dickman, 1792) (BD420 .F52 1750 no. 2)

Early autobiographical accounts of battles with mental illness are quite rare, and recently we acquired one for the Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. In 1792, in the small town of Greenfield, Mass., Thomas Dickman printed Miscellaneous reflections. In verse. Mostly written at sundry times, when under long confinement by a complication of nervous disorders. Only three copies are recorded of this 40-page pamphlet, written “by a valetudinary” (whose identity remains unknown) and “printed by request of friends of that class.” Most of the poems are religious in nature, but the initial poems are extraordinary for attempting to convey, in verse, the author’s experience of being in a state of “nervous disorder.”

Tales from Under Grounds: Women’s Suffrage, Coeducation, and Israeli Statehood

Posted on March 13, 2014 by

The following blog post is the second in a series of four, spotlighting the mini-exhibitions of students from fall semester’s USEM 1570: Researching History. This is the abridged version of the students’ projects, featured at their outreach program, Tales from Under Grounds.

Ally Clement gives her classmates a “tour” of her mini-exhibition in preparation for Tales from Under Grounds.

***

Ally Clement, First-Year Student

Photograph of Ally Clement by Sanjay Suchak, November 19, 2013.

Ally Clement presenting her exhibit at the event, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak)

The Fight for Rights: Women’s Suffrage 1886-1912

From one of the first debates on women’s suffrage to why people should or should not advocate for women’s suffrage, this exhibit illustrates the points of view about women’s suffrage from 1886 until 1911. The fight for women’s right to vote was a prominent piece of American history. Women and men across the country joined together in the fight for or against equal voting rights for women.

Suffragettes made newspaper headlines throughout their fight and were the main topics of pamphlets distributed in the early 1900s. The fight for women’s suffrage did not cease until 1920 when the 19th amendment was passed and added to the U.S. Constitution.

Scrapbook regarding World War I and Women’s Suffrage, 1913-1918. Emily Wayland Dinwiddie compiled this scrapbook, which includes history-making headlines from newspapers during the beginning of women’s suffrage to World War I. The headlines of this page are what are most important. They show many different views of how people (editors specifically) felt about women having the right to vote. Some headlines are exciting like “Hurrah for the Suffragette!” while others blame women’s suffrage on issues such as divorce or laziness. (MSS 3194-c. Image by Petrina Jackson)

“Facts and Dates to Remember” (New York: National American Women’s Suffrage Association, 1911). Numerous informative and opposing pamphlets were issued during the time of women’s suffrage but this handout lists other countries and areas that have already allowed women the right to vote by 1911. The earliest suffrage right listed is Wyoming in 1869. It is important to remember that even though it was not legal to do so, some states already allowed women to vote. (Broadside 1911 .N28c. Image by Petrina Jackson)

Verso of “Facts and Dates to Remember” (New York: National American Women’s Suffrage Association, 1911). (Broadside 1911 .N28c. Image by Petrina Jackson)

***

Kate Westman, First-Year Student

Kate Westman explains her exhibition to Author Donna Lucey, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

Hoo’s She?

Although the University of Virginia did not become fully coeducational until 1970, calls for coeducation were made many years earlier. When a significant number of universities and colleges had begun providing coeducational opportunities by the end of the 19th century, the University of Virginia was pressured into doing the same. The University held on tightly to its tradition, however, as it took nearly eighty years to become fully coeducational after admitting the first female student.

Women were allowed to study at the University in very limited capacities beginning in the end of the 19th century. They could study privately with professors, take examinations, and earn pass certificates. In the beginning of the 20th century, the summer school began, where women could study but not earn credit. Though these opportunities were far from equal to those of men, these were significant steps toward coeducation in the University that clung so tightly to tradition.

Minute Book of the Board of Visitors of the University of Virginia, 1892. Minutes of the Board of Visitors from June 1892 includes a resolution that was passed in response to Caroline Preston Davis’s request to take math exams. During this time many schools were becoming coeducational, and the resolution that passed was U.Va.’s way of dealing with this issue. With a registration fee and instructor permission, women of good character and preparation could study privately with a professor and take examinations for a specific class in which men were enrolled. However, they were not allowed to attend lectures and received pass certificates instead of diplomas. Though this was a step toward better education for women, U.Va. still held onto tradition, considering itself unprepared to take on the “duties of instruction” for young women at this time. (RG-1/1/1.382. Image by Digitization Services)

Detail of the 1892 entry of the Board of Visitor's Minute Book, regarding women at the University. ()

Detail of the June 1892 entry of the Board of Visitor’s Minute Book, regarding women at the University. (RG-1/1/1.382. Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Pass Certificate of Caroline Preston Davis. June 14, 1893. After the Board of Visitors passed the resolution about women studying at U.Va., in 1892, Caroline Preston Davis became the first female student and the first woman to have her studies recognized at U.Va. By taking the same mathematics examinations as men (and doing quite well on them), she earned this pass certificate in lieu of diploma. The paper on which this certificate was printed was the same as diploma paper, but parts of the diploma were marked out. Note that “Mr.” was changed into “Miss” and “a graduate” became “entitled to a pass-certificate on all graduating examinations in the School of Pure Mathematics.” This certificate shows how women were simultaneously close to and far from the educational opportunities that men had. (MSS 4951. Image by Petrina Jackson)

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Bethany Ackerman, First-Year Student

Bethany Ackerman discusses one of her exhibition items with Special Collections staff, November 26, 2013. (Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Bethany Ackerman discusses one of her exhibition items with Special Collections staff members George Riser and David Whitesell, November 26, 2013. (Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

Coeducation at the University of Virginia

The admission of women into the University of Virginia was not without strife and obstacles. With many faculty, alumni, and students clinging to tradition, the idea of admitting women specifically into the College of Arts and Sciences seemed preposterous. However, as times changed so did the mindsets of individuals with authority at the University of Virginia. Through academic and political reflection, leaders at the University decided to wield their power to move the University of Virginia towards a coeducational society.

Nevertheless, the decision to become a coeducational institution was not the end to the road of controversy, change, and acceptance; it was only the beginning. By following a timeline of student and faculty work, we can gain insight into the path women took to become an accepted presence at the University of Virginia.

Grimwood, Steve. “By God I Think They’re Here to Stay.” The Cavalier Daily. 14 September 1970: 3. In February of 1969, U.V.a.’s Board of Visitors passed the resolution admitting women into the College of Arts and Sciences beginning in the 1970 fall term. In its first 1970-71 newspaper, the Cavalier Daily notes and elaborates upon the presence of women at the University. The front page headline “350 Women Fill Out Profile of Entering Class” proves the significance of coeducation to the University. The inside article “By God I Think They’re Here to Stay,” further elaborates on student opinion. The article is flavored with mixed emotions; pleasure and tentative acceptance along with skepticism and underlying uncertainty about the future. (Photograph by Petrina Jackson)

“Coeducation.” Corks and Curls. Charlottesville: University of Virginia, 1971. Corks and Curls was the yearbook of the University of Virginia. The 1971 Corks and Curls edition was printed two years after women were admitted entrance into the College of Arts and Sciences. In the 1971 Corks and Curls, a small excerpt, titled “Coeducation” speaks lightly and positively about the impact of women on the University. This passage shows that, although admitting women into the College was an adjustment for many, ultimately the change should be accepted with grace and the diversity women offer, gratefully accepted. (LD 5687 .C7.1971. Image by Petrina Jackson)

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Zachary Krooks, First-Year Student

Zachary Krooks discusses his exhibition with Sharon Defibaugh, Special Collections Archives and Manuscripts processor, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

The Journey to 1948: An American Perspective

Most studies of the relationship between the Jewish and the Arab communities in Palestine and the situation that ensued in 1948 are focused on the two groups themselves and the British involvement. This exhibit’s purpose is to show that these entities were not alone in the conflict; the world’s rising superpower, the United States, closely monitored the situation and in turn had a significant impact on the outcome.

Through publications in American periodicals, pamphlets, and proclamations on the subject, one is able to determine that without American influence, it is possible the Jewish-Arab conflict in Palestine would not have resulted in the creation of the State of Israel.

“Palestine In the Press” [New York, 1946.]. This book is a series of news articles published in the United States concerning the issue of Palestine and the creation of an independent state. From these articles, it appears that American public opinion is on the side of the establishment of an independent Jewish state in the land of Palestine. Many of the articles criticize the British’s handling of the situation and even go as far as to state that the actions of the British are “all too reminiscent of… a Nazi concentration camp.” What is currently displayed is a political cartoon, in which the cartoonist appears to be stating that without the British support, the Palestinians would lose the state to the Jews, depicting the Palestinians as weak and defenseless. (D743.9 .C65 v.4 no.15. Image by Petrina Jackson)

“A Proclamation On the Moral Rights of the Stateless and Palestinian Jews” (New York, 1942). In this proclamation, numerous American military, political, religious, and academic leaders, among others, have expressed their sympathy for the plight of the Jews in Europe and in the Middle East. After detailing the suffering of the Jews in Europe and their unwillingness to give up on their people, the writers of this proclamation state that the Jewish people deserve a nation for which they can fight for and be a part of. (Broadside 1942.P76. Image by Petrina Jackson)

ABCs of Special Collections: W is for…

Posted on March 10, 2014 by

Well, Well, Well, what have we here? But the letter W, of course!

W from the cover of Louisa Venable Kyle’s The Witch of Pungo. Virginia Beach, Va: Four O’Clock Farms Publishing Co., 1988. (PZ7 .K983 Wi 1988. Gift of Edward Gaynor. Image by Anne Causey)

W is for Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward

One of the first American feminist writers, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward gained wide-spread popularity in her day. Her novel The Gates Ajar, published four years after the Civil War, was a best seller, depicting heaven as a place where loved ones reconnect after death. Through her writings, she challenged many of the mores of her day, especially those concerning Calvinist traditions. In her forties, she married a man nineteen years her junior, and famously urged women to burn their corsets.

A search of our online records show over 100 entries for Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward.

Contributed by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward. (MSS 6997-e. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Image by Petrina Jackson)

Title page of the first printing of The Gates Ajar by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward. (PS3142 .G3 1869. Image by Petrina Jackson)

W is for George Washington

George Washington. Legendary General. First President of the United States. Namesake of the nation’s Capital. His iconic image is with us every day, from the quarters in our change purses to the dollars in our wallets.

Contributed by Donna Stapley, Assistant to the Director

On display in the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library is the famous portrait of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart and a bronze bust by Jean Antoine Houdon.

Portrait of George Washington by Gilbert Stuart. (Gift of Mrs. F. Bayard Rives and George L. Rives. Photograph by Donna Stapley.)

Bust of Washington by Jean Antoine Houdon. (Gift of the Class of 1909. Photograph by Donna Stapley.)

Viewing our manuscript and ephemera collection helps change the legend into a man, providing a glimpse into the daily life of George Washington.

Bookplate belonging to George Washington. Copperplate engraving, 1771. (MSS 13483. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Page from a pocket account book containing an entry for purchase of a periwig for George Washington for a night of “entertainment,” April 1780. (MSS 8136-a. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Facsimile of letter from dated June 23, 1775, from George Washington to Martha Washington, regarding his departure from Philadelphia and his affection for her: “I retain an unalterable affection for you which neither time or distance can change..” (MSS 38-532. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

W is for Witches!

While Virginia did not experience the witch uproar of Salem, Mass, there was one notable case. In 1706 Grace Sherwood of Princess Anne County (now Virginia Beach) was accused of practicing witchcraft. Among her “sins” was bewitching hogs and escaping through a keyhole as a black cat. She was summoned to court and on July 5, “it was Ordrd . . . by her own Consent to be tried in the water by Ducking.” On July 10, she was tied and tossed in a river. She swam – thus guilty. “Five ancient women” searched her and declared she was “not like them nor noe other woman they knew of” because of two marks on her body. The court kept her in custody for a future trial, but records thereafter are unclear.

Contributed by Anne Causey, Public Services Assistant

One story of Grace Sherwood, a highly embellished children’s story, is found in Louisa Venable Kyle’s The Witch of Pungo. Virginia Beach, Va: Four O’Clock Farms Publishing Co., 1988. (PZ7 .K983 Wi 1988. Gift of Edward Gaynor. Image by Anne Causey)

The earliest printed record of Grace Sherwood’s story is in the Collections of the Virginia Historical & Philosophical Society, Richmond, 1833, presented by Jonathan Cushing (F221 v.95 no. 1. Image by Anne Causey)

From the Collections of the Virginia Historical & Philosophical Society, Richmond, 1833, presented by Jonathan Cushing (F221 v.95 no. 1. Image by Anne Causey).

W is for W.P.A.

The Works Progress Administration (later named the Work Projects Administration) is perhaps the best known of the New Deal agencies created to pull the United States out of the Great Depression. The W.P.A. focused primarily on public works, such as roads, dams, and public buildings but also funded smaller programs for writers, artists, musicians, and actors. Among the W.P.A. materials in Special Collections are original drawings (several unpublished) for Virginia the Old Dominion in Pictures; interviews with former slaves; and an extensive collection of folklore and folk songs from Virginia.

Contributed by Edward Gaynor, Head of Description and Specialist for Virginiana and University Archives

"Laundress" drawn by Ralph W. Lermond for (Photograph by Donna Stapley)

“Laundress” by Ralph W. Lermond for Drawings for Virginia: the Old Dominion in Pictures. (MSS 15372. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

“Forger,” an unpublished work by Ralph W. Lermond for Drawings for Virginia: the Old Dominion in Pictures. (MSS 15372. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Virginia: the Old Dominion in Pictures. (F231 .W89 1941. Image by Edward Gaynor)

Drawings by Ralph W. Lermond, featured in Virginia: the Old Dominion in Pictures. (F231 .W89 1941. Image by Edward Gaynor)

Now that “W” is complete, we have only three more letters to go. Visit us in a couple of weeks as we explore “X.”

The Media Studies Experience: An Afternoon with Willa Cather

Posted on March 7, 2014 by

We are pleased to feature a guest post by Emily Caldwell, Fourth-Year English major/Media Studies minor and blogger for The Media Studies Experience.

In my second year at UVa, I took Professor Stephen Raillton’s class on Modern American Authors. We read everything from F. Scott Fitzgerald to Richard Wright, but one author I was unfamiliar with up until this point was Willa Cather. That semester, I read her novel O Pioneers! and absolutely fell in love with her storytelling and writing style.

Bust of Willa Cather (Photograph by Emily Caldwell)

Paul Swan, plaster bust of Willa Cather in the Special Collections Reading Room (MSS 10560. Photograph by Emily Caldwell)

A few days ago, I spent the afternoon in the U.Va. Special Collections with some of Cather’s personal items including signed photographs, manuscripts, and letters. It’s safe to say that I fell in love with her even more.

Willa Cather's signature from her letter to (Emily Caldwell)

Willa Cather’s signature from her letter to the Head of the English Department at Mount Saint Mary’s College, February 7, 1940. (MSS 6494. Emily Caldwell)

Envelope and letter of Willa Cather to the Head of the Mount Saint Mary's , February 7, 1940. (Photograph by Emily Caldwell)

Envelope and letter of Willa Cather to the Head of the English Department at Mount Saint Mary’s College, February 7, 1940. (MSS 6494. Photograph by Emily Caldwell)

First of all, the woman can make me laugh. In a letter dated February 7, 1940, to the head of the English Department at Mount Saint Mary’s College in Maryland, Cather defends her religious beliefs, after having apparently received a letter from a student at the college, and instructs him, through the professor, to not believe everything he reads. Cather addresses the letter, “Dear Sir,” and then says, “I hope you will pardon me for addressing you without knowing your name, but I feel sure that you could handle this rather blustering boy better than I.” I could not help but chuckle to myself in the middle of the library’s dead silent reading room. Apparently this “blustering boy” had read somewhere in a book that Cather was a Roman Catholic convert, judging by her obvious praise of the Church throughout her literature. Although Cather claims that the Roman Catholic Church is “certainly the greatest spiritual power this world has ever known,” she claims that the “answer is very simple” and she is “an Episcopalian because [her] mother and father were, and that Church is home to [her].” Not only did she scold the so-called “blustering boy,” but she requested that slips of paper explaining the facts of her beliefs be put in every copy of Vernon Loggins’s I Hear America, which claimed Cather was a convert to the Roman Catholic Church. From this particular correspondence, it is clear that Cather was not only a sassy and particular woman, but truly dedicated to her religion, and I find both traits admirable.

The next treasure I found in this collection was a letter from Cather to a Mrs. Ackroyed dated May 16, 1941. Out of all of the things I looked at from this collection, this was my favorite artifact because of the way Cather fondly reflects on her childhood home in Virginia. I was first referred to this letter after looking at a photograph of that home, in Willow Shade, VA.

Cather’s childhood home in Willow Shade, VA, n.d. (MSS 6494. Photograph by Emily Caldwell.)

I thought it was peculiar that there was a blue circle around one of the windows on the house. After reading the letter, I found out some interesting facts about Cather’s childhood. In the beginning of the letter, Cather writes, “Your letter has awakened many pleasant memories. Your grandmother, Mary Ann Anderson, was a very special favorite of mine when I was a little girl of five to eight years old and lived in Willow Shade on the Northwestern Turnpike.” Cather continues to explain that when she would get sick as a little girl, she would “watch out of the front windows, hoping to see Mrs. Anderson coming down the road” because her family “usually sent some word to her when [she] was sick, because she was so tactful and understanding with a child.” I then made the connection to the photograph, on which Cather had actually circled the front window she used to sit at to watch for Mrs. Anderson. She recalls, “I several times walked up that beautiful Hollow Road, up to Timber Ridge, to see her in her little house where she lived all alone, and where she was as happy as the day was long.”

Cather then goes on in the letter to talk about her Aunt Marjorie, who she used to visit back in Virginia after her family moved out west to Nebraska. She writes, “I used to always spend many hours with Marjorie in the…sunny kitchen or on the shady back porch. She liked to talk about the old times in Virginia.” As I was reading the letter, I felt the emotions and nostalgia she poured into this letter. She writes that she wished to “have the croup again” and she “could watch out of one of those windows at Willow Shade and see Mrs. Anderson coming briskly around the turn of the road.”

When I first started digging into this collection of Willa Cather’s artifacts and materials, I thought I would read into some of her personal relationships and see some interesting photographs. However, I never expected to read a touching letter reflecting on her childhood, and how much she wished she could be a child in Virginia again with the people who shaped her life so much. It is a very special moment and feeling to read one of the most brilliant authors I have ever read gush about their time spent in Virginia, my home state and the place where I, too, spent many magical years as a child, learning about the world. I never believed I could relate to Willa Cather so much, and I feel even more honored than ever to go to the University of Virginia, and call Virginia my home state.

Double-signed photograph of Willa Cather, n.d. (Photograph by Emily Caldwell)

Double-signed photograph of Willa Cather, n.d. (MSS 6494. Photograph by Emily Caldwell)

Detail of Willa Cather photograph, n.d. (Emily Caldwell)

Detail of Willa Cather’s signature on her photograph, n.d. (MSS 6494. Emily Caldwell)

Permission was granted courtesy of Willa Cather’s estate to use quotations from her unpublished letters.

Patron’s Choice: Massive Resistance and Harry F. Byrd

Posted on March 6, 2014 by

This week we are pleased to feature a guest post by researcher Dr. Candace Epps-Robertson, who teaches in the Department of Writing, Rhetoric, & American Cultures at Michigan State University. Dr. Epps-Robertson worked with our collections remotely, requesting digital images of materials, mostly from the voluminous papers of Senator Harry Flood Byrd.

As a scholar of rhetoric during the Civil Rights Movement the questions that guide most of my research are usually quite simple: How were arguments made and how did they circulate? These questions drive my work in the area of Virginia’s Massive Resistance period. My research into this bleak moment of Virginia’s history comes as a result of my work on Prince Edward County, Virginia’s five-year public school closures in resistance to Brown vs Board of Education (1954). While Massive Resistance, on the books at least, subsided after 1959, Prince Edward persisted through the refusal to integrate public schools. To better understand how local leaders were able to close schools I trace and examine how segregationists introduced discourse to strengthen connections and mobilize efforts for an audience supportive of the notion that the preservation of segregation was a civic duty. One of the architects of the discourse of Massive Resistance was Senator Harry Flood Byrd whose papers exist in The Albert and Shirley Small Collections.

The late Senator Byrd had a thirty-three year political term in the Commonwealth, serving as governor from 1926 until 1930 and senator from 1933 until 1965. In many ways his position on segregation was no different from that of other supporters; however the power base he held in Virginia’s government secured him a larger audience. My quest to understand the history, context, and arguments made by Byrd brought me to this archive.

Thus far, my research in Byrd’s papers has all been done remotely. As a researcher whose work depends quite heavily on archival work, working entirely from digital copies from U.Va.’s Special Collections was a new adventure for me. I enjoy both the physical hunt for documents as well as the serendipity of the archive, but the detailed finding aid, and helpful assistance of the library’s staff, has made the long-distance research move with ease.

One of the many documents that has helped me understand Byrd’s means of crafting arguments is his April 28, 1961 press release on Prince Edward. In response to Attorney General Kennedy’s attempt to stop state funding being used for tuition assistance for White students to attend segregationists academies Byrd uses this moment to praise Prince Edward as a “gallant” county “fighting against great odds to protect a principle it believes to be right.” He continues by portraying Prince Edward, and Virginia, as victims, citing that Kennedy’s proposal was an “attempt to punish an entire State because the action of one county displease the U.S. Attorney General.”

Harry Flood Byrd’s press release regarding the “intervention by the Attorney General of the United States in the Prince Edward County School District” (MSS 9700, Papers of Harry Flood Byrd. Images by U.Va. Library Digitization Services)

Detail from Byrd’s press release.

While Byrd holds Prince Edward up as a model community for its demonstration, he simultaneously paints the entire Commonwealth as a victim at the hands of an intrusive federal government. Byrd’s press release continues with a somewhat ironic warning against bitterness in what he sees as being a struggle for unity: “Such action will sow the seeds of intense bitterness throughout Virginia and the South when unity is needed as rarely before.” This document, like many of Byrd’s speeches, press releases, and correspondence, serves as a means for helping us to understand both the history and discourse of Massive Resistance. The language was as much about maintaining state’s rights as it was demonstrating the resilience needed to protect the South’s way of life at all costs.

Detail from Byrd’s press release.

When I’m asked why I devote research to a moment in our nation’s history that is so painful and ugly my response is simple: We must understand how race has operated historically through language and having access to archival sources is paramount to this. If we understand how racist discourse has functioned and if we continue to trace how it morphs, we can better prepare ourselves to dismantle and challenge the discourse of race. Archives, especially those with strong digital components and support, can aid us in our quest to dissect words and movements over long distances so that our struggle doesn’t have to be limited by travel funding or leaving campus on a research sojourn across the country.

Detail from the closing page of an anti-integration pamphlet also used by Professor Epps-Robertson in her research. (Broadside 747. Image by U.Va. Libraries Digitization Services)

The Media Studies Experience: U.Va.’s Beta Bridge

Posted on March 4, 2014 by

We are pleased to feature a guest post by Garrett Gottesman, who is a Third-Year, double-majoring in Media Studies and American Studies with a concentration in Social Reform, and a blogger for The Media Studies Experience.

Because I’ve seen messages and artwork come and go almost daily on Beta Bridge over the past three years, oftentimes the words and their meaning are lost on me. But this week, Beta Bridge grabbed my attention and made me momentarily put my day on pause.

Beta Bridge, February 2014 (Photograph by Garrett Gottesman)

Beta Bridge painted in support of Venezuelan protests, February 21, 2014. (Photograph by Garrett Gottesman)

Having followed the news coverage of the political unrest in Venezuela, this visual demonstration arranged by Venezuelan students at U.Va. instantly caught and held my attention. This dramatic appeal resonated with me as images of violence and brutality still lingered in my head from the news the night before. Second-Year Student Henrique Sosa, who is from Venezuela and is a leader of U.Va. students demonstrating support for Venezuela, said that their mission is to increase consciousness about the crisis amongst students and also to send strength to the Venezuelans whose voices are being silenced by the oppressive regime.

(Screen shot taken by Garrett Gottesman)

An example of U.Va. student support for the Venezuelan protests is this picture, which has reached an audience of over 700,000 Venezuelans after it was retweeted by prominent Venezuelan reporter Miguel Henrique Otero, February 23, 2014. (Screen shot taken by Garrett Gottesman)

In addition to accomplishing this mission though, the message also left me questioning the history of Beta Bridge as I realized that I knew so little about it.

Paintings on the bridge commemorating students who have recently died, or the “Hoos for Hokies” message after the Virginia Tech shootings are some of the most memorable Beta messages that resonate with the student body. But largely, the free billboard space is filled with birthday wishes and CIO (student group) advertisements. These more common messages go unnoticed; however, the sanctity of this outlet of expression is worth defending.

Filled with curiosity of the bridge’s history, I visited Special Collections. There, I found dozens of pictures of the bridge over the last 20 years, as well as two Cavalier Daily articles from the 1980s that illustrated Beta’s history and importance.

University of Virginia Beta Bridge, 1969. (RG-30/1/10.11. University of Virginia Visual History Collection. Image by Digitization Services.)

The March 11, 1981 Cavalier Daily article, “Beta: It’s More Than Just a Bridge” explains the history of the bridge. The original wooden bridge was built in 1855 by the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad Company, who owned the railroad below, but it wasn’t until the 1960’s that painting it became such a part of U.Va. culture. As a matter of fact, it was illegal to paint it before this time, and the marks seldom on it, which were usually sports scores, were done under the cover of the night.

This tradition blossomed though, and, by the 1980s, the bridge was painted up to five times a day. Reaffirming my sentiments, the Cavalier Daily articles noted how important this outlet of student expression was. In the September 22, 1986 article entitled “Beta Bridge: Layers of University Tradition Live on Rugby,” former professor Raymond Bice explained, “Once in a while someone paints something that raises eyebrows. But really it’s a harmless activity that is very valuable.” Although the instances that he is talking about are ones like the John Lennon memorial that stayed up for ten days, this act still holds value today as some students use it to reach beyond the University community. The bridge poses as a cornerstone for the symbolic value of student voice, and even though it can often be pointless fun, sometimes its impact leaves a lasting mark on those who see it.

On View Now: The Journeys of Vachel Lindsay

Posted on March 3, 2014 by

We are proud to announce the opening of our new First Floor exhibit, Troubadour, Vagabond, Visionary: The Journeys of Vachel Lindsay, curated by English graduate Student and Special Collections curatorial assistant Elizabeth Ott. Today on the blog, Elizabeth offers some reflections on the curatorial process in the following guest post. Thanks, Liz, and congratulations on your beautiful exhibition!

Poster design by Jeff Hill, U.Va. Library.

If there were a single collection in the Albert & Shirley Small Special Collections library that could represent all of the reasons special collections libraries exist, I think it would have to be the Vachel Lindsay Collection. Lindsay was an American poet of the early 20^th century known for his tramping excursions of hundreds of miles across many states, when he traded poetry pamphlets and performances for food and lodging. He spent much of his life walking the lines between poet, painter, preacher, and philosopher. He’s exactly the kind of writer whose value to the history of literature is most easily lost in the ascetic pages of a Norton Anthology, where his booming vaudevillian voice, syncopated jazz rhythms, and elaborate tongue-in-cheek illustrations are reduced down to plain black ink on a white page.

Exhibition curator Elizabeth Ott and her supervisor, curator Molly Schwartzburg, installing Lindsay’s Bibles in the exhibition. (Photo by Sanjay Suchak)

To understand Vachel Lindsay, you need to see all his stuff. To understand Vachel Lindsay, you need to visit Special Collections. This is because the manuscripts, printed books, and other materials in the stacks of the Small Library tell a vibrant story, one that casts Lindsay in a kaleidoscopic light of colors and shades, speaking of a rich artistic career. Enterprising, energetic, and prolific, Lindsay traveled America as a self-styled troubadour, distributed art and ideas with an earnest faith in the twin powers of Beauty and Art, and made a name for himself reclaiming poetry as the province of performance. The Vachel Lindsay Collection is wildly eclectic, encompassing everything from oil paintings and cherished slippers to folksy illustrated pamphlets and the blocks used to print them.

One of Vachel Lindsay’s Bibles, inscribed with his elegant script, ready to be installed in the exhibition. (Photo by Sanjay Suchak)

Because of Lindsay’s broad interests and the great scope of the collection, deciding what aspect of Lindsay’s career to exhibit was no small task. I wanted to showcase the range of his work while at the same time giving a sense of just how much he dovetailed with the intellectual and artistic concerns of his day. To me, Lindsay seemed so much a part of the American landscape—an America still in the process of building an identity. Lindsay, like many American poets, looked back to create something unique and new, breaking from tradition by invoking an almost transcendental link to a mythic and stylized past.

The exhibition installation process continues. (Photo by Sanjay Suchak)

The decision to focus the exhibition on Lindsay’s journeys, both literal and figurative, grew out of two maps that now hang in the first case of the exhibition. Both maps are fairly ordinary, save that Lindsay has embellished both, labeling them with paint and pen. The first records his tramping journeys between 1904 and 1916. The second divides the country into regions of Lindsay’s devising, with his characteristic penchant for the symbolic over the literal. I wanted to tell the story of these two maps, of Lindsay’s actual treks across the United States, but also of his visions of the journey America, as a country, was to undertake.

Elizabeth supervises Molly as she levels one of Lindsay’s maps. (Photo by Sanjay Suchak)

The resulting exhibition thus tells two stories. The first is the story of what Vachel Lindsay means to America—how his tramping journeys presaged the hobo culture of the 1920s and 30s and influenced generations of poets who drew inspiration from folk culture. The second is the story of what America meant to Vachel Lindsay, his mythopoeic universe with Springfield, Illinois (his hometown) at the center. Though this exhibition barely scratches the surface of his fascinating life and work, it samples a great range of the materials that survive in the Vachel Lindsay Collection, testifying to the life and works of this now obscure but enduringly influential American poet.

Elizabeth puts the finishing touches on her exhibition. (Photo by Sanjay Suchak)