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Description in MPLP is counter-intuitive

Tuesday, February 7th, 2012

Courtney and I both felt strongly, from the very beginning of the project, that sacrificing description for speed was a risk in this project.  Although we know that every collection could still use additional work, we worked hard to make it so that the repository did not feel that additional work was necessary before they made the collection public.  Moreover, we knew from the start, that many of the collections would NEVER be worked on again.  Unfortunately, that is just how it is.

So what have we learned about description?  We learned that description takes a lot of time—in fact, that is probably the first thing we learned in this project when we tested the manual and discovered that even an experienced processor could not arrange and describe a fairly straightforward collection from start to finish in 2 hours per linear foot.  As a result, Courtney and I created processing plans that included a preliminary biographical/historical note before processing started.  In general, we have learned that it generally takes roughly the same amount of time to describe a collection as it does to arrange a collection.

I’m not going to lie … I am pro description … few things give me more professional pleasure that a beautifully crafted folder title or a paragraph in a scope and content note that I know will help a user determine if this collection is going to help them with their research.  That is the whole point—letting researchers know that we have the stuff that they need.  As a result, the PACSCL/CLIR team took it seriously.  Description is the one part of training that has probably evolved most over the course of the project.  We developed exercises to help our processors write better and more descriptive folder titles and structure notes so that they are both concise and informative.  The project didn’t have a lot of time, so we tried to make our processors think like a user and learn to quickly assess the contents of a folder.  For the most part, we are really pleased with our finding aids and I think, nine times out of ten, researchers will be able to determine by the finding aid if the collection is worth their time in looking at it.

One of the really interesting things we learned is, to me, still the most counter-intuitive.  A collection with extremely tidy existing arrangement usually results in a collection with less thorough description.  I am going to use two specific collections to illustrate this issue.

The first collection is the Dillwyn and Emlen family correspondence, 1770-1818, housed at the Library Company of Philadelphia (unquestionably one of my favorite collections in this project—as well as being one of my biggest disappointments, archivally speaking).  When I sat down to process this collection, I was really confident—the collection was 2 linear feet and was already arranged.  At one point in time, it had been bound in volumes and at another point in time, the letters were removed from the volumes and placed in very acidic folders.  Every letter had a catalog number written on the document.  While a few of the letters were out of chronological order, the vast majority of the collection was arranged very effectively; each folder containing letters from a span of dates.

This collection desperately needed to be re-foldered.  Not only were the folders highly acidic, but they were too small and some of the letters were showing a bit of damage.  I re-foldered the 130 folders in the collection which took about 2.5 hours.  Then I entered the folder list into the Archivists’ Toolkit which probably took only about 15 to 20 minutes.   So in roughly 3 hours (three quarters of my allotted time), I had the collection rehoused and the folder list in the Archivists’ Toolkit, which left me 1 hour to write a scope and content note.  Should have been easy, right? Well, no. Because this collection was perfectly arranged, I did not need to look at even one document in order to create the container list.  Moreover, the container list is not very helpful to a researcher.  All it contains is a list of dates which means that the scope and content note should be full of the subjects addressed in the correspondence.  Problem is, I did not know anything about the letters.  There was no way that I could read enough of the letters in an hour to discover all the topics addressed in the letters that will almost certainly be interesting to researchers.  I did my best—I valiantly scanned through as many letters as I could and wrote down key topics that popped up more than once or twice, and as each minute passed, my heart sank just a little more—I knew perfectly well that I could never do this extraordinary collection justice, even with twice the time.  Prior to beginning processing, I had performed my research for the biographical note and I had discovered that several authors had used portions of the collection in their published works … so I turned to them for expertise on this collection.  They wrote about only a tiny portion of the collection, Susanna Dillwyn Emlen’s bout with breast cancer.  I soaked up every bit of information in their books and included it in my scope note in order to give users the most information possible, but I feel like the project failed this collection.  Perhaps I feel this so strongly because I had been so confident in significantly improving access to it.

I have beheld the second collection, the Belfield collection, 1697-1977, housed at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, with equal amounts of awe, excitement and horror since I first laid eyes on it.  Never have I seen such a mess of a collection—please see just a few photographs as words cannot effectively describe the condition of this collection.  Courtney and I spoke with Matthew Lyons of HSP and he said that he was not expecting much more than good box level descriptions of the contents.  Even with these reduced expectations, we thought it wise to double our forces and therefore, Michael, Celia, Courtney and I all worked together on this collection.  I am happy to say that this collection will, for quite a few series, contain folder level description, but even more than that, the scope and content note for this collection is rich, deep and full of the flavor of the four generations of family who lived at Belfield.

So why does a collection that was the biggest (filthiest) mess of all time result in a better finding aid than a small and beautifully arranged collection?   I know it is because we were forced to sift through the messy collection in order to create any order, and it is amazing how much one absorbs simply by looking at the collection.  In the end, I feel that this is one of the biggest rapid maximal processing successes of the entire project.  We took the collection from utterly unusable chaos to an order that could certainly be refined, but is beyond serviceable.

When selecting collections for a minimal/rapid maximal processing project, consider your time frames and what result you want from the project.  If you want a container list in a hurry, select a well-organized collection.  If you want fuller description, a collection that needs some arrangement will probably be the best choice.  From a purely selfish perspective, I would pick a wreck of a collection over a tidy one every time—the sense of accomplishment and success is so much sweeter than that despair I still feel when I think of Dillwyn and Emlen letters.

I mentioned in an earlier blog post that there are about 3 collections that I don’t feel enormously benefited from this project.  In every case, the collections had existing arrangement that I felt either prevented me from starting from scratch or were in good enough order that I did not learn valuable content that I could then share with researchers.

The decision to minimally process should be a collection-by-collection decision …

Friday, January 27th, 2012

Fairly early in this project, Courtney and I determined that “MPLP 2 Hours” was not going to be a wholesale success—most collections simply cannot be processed in that time frame, regardless of the shortcuts taken (our average across the board is 3.2 hours per linear foot).  And in some cases, those shortcuts resulted in a product that we did not feel was more useful to a researcher post-processing.  What we have determined is essentially this … it is difficult, if not impossible, to say that collections can be processed in a set or determined amount of time, but it is possible to make educated estimates allowing us to allocate human resources to process collections efficiently.

There are several factors that allow us to better determine a time frame for the processing of collections:  age, type of collection, and original arrangement of the collection are the three biggies. None of these factors work independently—they are all intertwined to help determine the time frame.  So, based upon the data collected for 125 collections, processors have physically processed collections with the oldest material dating from the:

17th century at an average of 4.1 hours per linear foot;

18th century at an average of 3.3 hours per linear foot;

19th century at an average of 3.4 hours per linear foot;

20th century at an average of 2.9 hours per linear foot.

Processors have processed:

artificial collections at an average of 3.6 hours per linear foot;

institutional/corporate records at an average of 2.5 hours per linear foot;

personal papers at an average of 3.7 hours per linear foot;

family papers at an average of 4.2 hours per linear foot.

Age seems like it should be the most logical factor, but in fact, it has proven to be the least certain factor in our ability to judge the time frame for processing.  We thought originally that old collections (pre 1850s for certain) would take us significantly longer to process, but this is not necessarily the case.  The age does not seem to deter us in being able to efficiently process an “old” collection.  Age does, however, quite frequently deter us from describing the collections well.  Quickly skimming for content in folders of 17th, 18th and 19th century handwritten material is not easy—and it absolutely results in less thorough description.  However, if the collection is arranged and available for research use, perhaps this is where we ask for help … as researchers use the collections, we can ask them to provide more robust description of what the correspondence, journals, etc. contain.  Finding aids CAN be iterative … especially with technology such as the Archivists’ Toolkit.  “Newer” collections may or may not be easier to process … certainly there is more typewritten material that makes it immediately easier to categorize series/subseries/folders and describe the contents of the folders more thoroughly.  However, in the end, the ease of the processing relies more heavily on the type of collection more than the age.

For this project, we have divided collections into four basic types:  institutional/corporate records, personal papers, family papers and artificial collections.  Again, there is no one size fits all … each collection is unique (is that not why archival collections are so awesome?).  Generally speaking though, an institution or company’s records can be processed most quickly, followed by personal papers and then family papers.  Artificial collections are usually the fastest or the slowest depending entirely upon the collector.  Usually, they are speedy—the collector is in love with the topic they are collecting and as a result, they arrange the collection for their own personal satisfaction and use—all the letters of a children’s book author are arranged chronologically by date sent or alphabetically by the recipients’ names.  If this is the case, the artificial collection is a dream to process and it usually requires only description.  In a few instances, however, we have found collections where the collector simply collects … they probably know that the stuff is important, but they are not organizers.  At that point, trying to create a system out of a group of randomly acquired material can be quite difficult.

Institutional and business records are usually quick and easy and this is because the functions of a business or an institution generally follow the same basic structures and are fairly predictable.  Usually, you will find financial records, minutes, committee records, administrative records, subject files, correspondence, etc.  Because the function generates the records, it is logical and easy to determine a good organizational scheme for the papers.  But as always, the collections are unique and we have found that different creators generate different levels of tidiness, logical order, and structure.

Personal papers are the next quickest to process (generally speaking), especially if the creator was involved in several major movements, careers, and/or activities.  However, the ability to efficiently process a person’s personal collection often depends upon how intermingled those pursuits are with family, friends, and work.

Family papers have been, fairly consistently, the most time-consuming collections to process.  The problems that arise with family papers that generally do not exist with personal papers are the intertwining relationships that make determining to whom a certain group of materials belong challenging, and sometimes, impossible.  When every generation in a family has a woman named Sarah, determining generations becomes a trial.   Many a day passed at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania with the following conversation: “So wait, this is Sarah Logan Wister Starr?”  “No, this is Sarah Logan Starr Blaine!”  Or:  “Here is a letter to Grandma Sarah from Sarah …does that mean it is Sarah Logan Starr Blain?”  “No!  It could be Sarah Logan Starr Blain OR Sarah Logan Wister Starr OR Sarah Tyler Boas Wister!”  Egads … I wanted to buy a baby name book for this family!  Not surprisingly, this kind of questioning takes time … lots of time.

The third main factor in determining time for processing a collection is existing arrangement.  A collection of 20th century business records thrown into boxes will take longer than a collection of 18th century business records that are housed in volumes.  A collection of family papers organized by the donor into distinct family member’s papers can probably be processed more quickly than a collection of personal papers that are completely unsorted.  I have intentionally not used the term original order which implies that the order was generated the creator.  Existing arrangement may have been generated by the creator, but in many cases, it is generated by an archivist who starts processing the collection but does not complete the project.  Unfortunately, the hardest collections to process efficiently are often collections that someone else has started to process.  Trying to understand an undocumented order that has been imposed or continue with an arrangement scheme that does not seem logical is much more difficult than imposing order from absolute chaos.  And without a questions, the collections that take the absolute longest are ones in which parts of the collection have received item level treatment.  Addressed in the next blog post will be how this type of existing arrangement affects description of collections.

So, basically what we have said here is that every collection is different and unique and there is absolutely no way to say that one time will work even within a date frame or a type of record. Our observations are backed by Greene and Meissner who say that “MPLP … advises vigorously against adopting cookie-cutter approaches … and [recommends] flexible approaches,” (page 176).  In order to make educated estimates for allocating resources, we believe that a base-line starting time frame is needed:  institutional/corporate collections should be given 3 hours per linear foot.  Based upon the existing arrangement, tack on another hour per linear foot if it is in a shambles.  If the bulk of the material is from the 18th century, tack on yet another hour per linear foot for increased perusal time which will result in more effective description.  So, in this case, your estimated processing time is 5 hours per linear foot.  Could you do it in three?  Yes, probably.  However, with allowances for age and existing arrangement, you will almost unquestionably have a better product, still at just over ½ the rate of traditional processing.

Based upon our experience, the PACSCL/CLIR project believes that the following base-line processing time estimates would work well:

Artificial collections:  3 hours per linear foot

Institutional/corporate collections:  3 hours per linear foot

Personal papers:  4 hours per linear foot

Family papers:  6 hours per linear foot

Our averages clearly show how quickly collections can be processed … but the base-line estimate with upgrades allows us to provide the best possible product while being mindful of available resources.

Historic recipes: always a great way to celebrate!

Tuesday, January 24th, 2012

At the end 2011, the PACSCL/CLIR “Hidden Collections” project gathered our processors, our repository staff, and our extraordinary helpers together to celebrate the successful completion of the project.  It was a way for Courtney and me to thank everyone who worked so hard and made this project work!

We celebrated in the beautiful Ewell Sale Stewart Library and Archives at the Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadelphia, thanks to the generosity of the archivist, Clare Fleming.  And many of our project team brought dishes, straight out of the past!  As we processed, the foodies among us took photographs of recipes we found in the collections, so it turned out that we had quite a nice pile of historic recipes to choose from when selecting our fabulous menu.  Photographs of our recipes can be found in our Flickr set Eating in the Archives.

I made five recipes and it occurred to me as I was running off to the grocery what a different world we live in from the late 1700s and 1800s.  For example, to make my five dishes, my ingredient list included the following ingredients:  butter, shortening, flour, eggs, baking powder (lots of it!), a little sugar, milk, rice and a few spices.  I tend to think of myself as rather in touch with history, but I remember sitting for a few moments staring at the list and thinking, “what of my fabulous vanilla from Mexico?  what of cocoa?  what of lemon zest?”  I also remember thinking, in a cold sweat, of what I would have to eat in the midst of December if it were not for grocery stores, airplanes, ships, railroads, commercial farms with irrigation systems, etc., bringing fresh fruit and exotic ingredients from around the world.  The cold sweat returned as I baked–I have a whole new appreciation for epicurious and cookbooks with instructions … I decided not to make “soft gingerbread” because the recipe included a list of ingredients, but no other instructions.  I am pleased to say that my braver colleague, Sarah, made the gingerbread with great success.

Now that I have talked about food (one of two conversations everyone eventually has with me–and usually sooner rather than later), I would like to publicly thank a few people:  our amazing project team; repository staff, who took us in and trusted us with their world-class collections; UPenn for hosting Courtney and me; Laura Blanchard, PACSCL staff member extraordinaire; Delphine Khanna, who is responsible for our fantastic PACSCL Finding Aids Site; Matt Herbison, who created a spreadsheet of wonder that helped make our project succeed (blog post on this forthcoming); Christa Williford from CLIR for all her support throughout the last 2.5 years; and Christine DiBella, who was responsible for the PACSCL Survey Initiative and helped me out, so much, particularly at the beginning of the project.  And finally, Courtney Smerz, who has brought her archival skill, pride of work, and enthusiasm to this project.

We have until the end of March to pull together all our loose ends and then we will leave behind this amazing project.  Thanks PACSCL and CLIR for this amazing opportunity!  I have enjoyed every minute!

27 months, 125 collections — How’d we do?

Wednesday, January 18th, 2012

After two years of speed processing across the Delaware Valley, Holly and I thought it prudent to take one last look at the collections before calling it quits. From September to the end of November we traveled from site to site reviewing our work and gathering information on the quality and accuracy of our efforts. In doing so, we learned a lot about the limitations of minimal processing AND our approach to training.

We processed 125 collections and spot checked 103.  Our approach varied a little from collection to collection, but generally speaking we followed the same protocol across the board, and created a worksheet to keep us on task. We took note of the overall condition of each collection, and recorded data on the condition of folders and whether folder labels were complete and legible.  We remeasured each collection (including counting containers and volumes), and carefully reviewed the contents of several boxes (every fifth or tenth box, for example, depending on the size of the collection).  Within boxes, we counted folders and reviewed the title and contents of at least one folder (sometimes many more) in each box, comparing the physical collection to what was recorded in the finding aid.  Here’s what we found:

  • Collections or parts of collections that benefited from new housing were infinitely easier to review than collections that remained in their original housing, particularly when it came to counting files, and reading and understanding the information provided on folder labels.
  • Inconsistent and incomplete folder labeling was a recurring issue in 32% of the collections we reviewed.  In particular, one of the more frustrating problems we encountered was that students frequently sacrificed recording the box and folder number or collection name on folder labels.
  • Another major issue we encountered was mistakes in box and folder numbering.  9% of the boxes we checked had numbering issues.  9% doesn’t seem like a lot, but renumbering boxes and folders (141 of ‘em, to be precise) is incredibly time consuming.  One mistake in numbering, as you probably know, means the entire box must be renumbered and updated in the database.
  • We identified 17 items that were unaccounted for in finding aids.
  • Happily, 96% of the files we checked for accuracy in description, when compared to the finding aid, were correctly described!

What we learned:

We had the good fortune to find and hire bright and enthusiastic student processors — nearly all of whom planned to become professional archivists.  We sometimes forgot, however, that they were not yet professional archivists and, though we provided a lot of training and feedback in certain areas, we placed less emphasis on others, perhaps assuming the importance of some tasks to be common knowledge.  We absolutely provided instruction on how to handle, house and label the physical collection, but in training (and in supervision) I think we inadvertently placed more importance on the quality of the finding aid.  That we employed MPLP, where less work is done physically, probably exacerbated this problem.

Though we were not able to gather data for all of these issues, anecdotally, I can say, the biggest offenders that detracted from the overall physical quality of the processed collections were: (1) failure to replace all of the damaged and/or brittle folders, (2) failure to re-record information provided on file labels with deteriorating adhesive, (3) inconsistency in folder labeling, (4) neglecting to record the collection name or number on folder labels, and (5) neglecting to record box and folder numbers on folder labels.

These issues not only made the collections look messy, but made them difficult to use.  Incomplete and inconsistent folder labels will certainly make research and reference (particularly returning files to their rightful place) difficult. And the failure to re-record information from failing adhesive labels risks losing some or all identifying information when those labels inevitably fall off and are lost.

If we had the chance to do it again, we would definitely add to our training and change how we supervised the students. At the very least, we would incorporate reference exercises into boot camp to place greater emphasis on how the condition of the physical collection impacts research and reference. Though in our case, this was hard to avoid, I think there would be less remote supervision. While we pored over finding aids, making endless edits (four rounds of editing!), we should have made more time to review the actual collection together with the processors.  We had lots of conversations along the way about how to approach arrangement, but little time was made to discuss the mechanics of processing. Doing so would also have provided the opportunity for processors to fix their own mistakes (rather than Holly and I doing it for them, after they’ve moved on), which, in my opinion, is one of the best ways to learn.

We are revamping our training and processing materials to reflect what we learned over the last few months, so be on the lookout for a tweet or blog post announcing when they are ready.

Last minute holiday gift for the archivist in your life …

Thursday, December 22nd, 2011

Over the last two years, Courtney and I have had 17 graduate students work for us and we appreciated every minute of the time and energy that they extended to the project. So, as a gift at the end of their service to the project, we gave them what we like to call the Archivists’ Kit Bag (the obvious Archivists’ Toolkit being taken). We hoped that this bag of tools would make them ready for whatever job came their way–and a job came for each and every one of them!

I personally want one of these kit bags, as does Courtney and a few other repository staff members who have seen them, so if you are still looking for the perfect gift for the archivist in your life, consider putting together this bag of goodies. We bought some tools from Gaylord, but you can actually go to craft stores (Dick Blick, Michaels, A.C. Moore, etc.) to get the bulk of it, if you are in a hurry.

Our kit bags included:

  • Bone folder
  • Micro spatula
  • Mechanical pencil with extra lead and erasers
  • Eraser
  • PH Pen
  • Knife
  • Measuring tape
  • Plasti-clips
  • Gloves
  • Note book

Our original bags were made by John Armstrong, surveyor during the PACSCL Survey Initiative, but after he moved to New England, we had bags made by an artist on Etsy who is, unfortunately, no long able to make them for the price he had originally quoted.  They are waxed cotton and pretty awesome, however, a pencil case would work just as well–just make certain the bag is big enough to hold the micro spatula.

Your favorite archivist will love it!

A suite of related collections poses problems with controlled vocabulary at the PMA

Monday, December 12th, 2011

As you know, we processed at the Philadelphia Museum of Art this summer, where Susie Anderson, the archivist there, selected several collections of related institutional records for processing.  All were post-1950 collections of institutional records, each representing a distinct department within the Museum.  Seems like the ideal situation for MPLP processing, right?  Well, not exactly.  After processing a couple of the collections we realized that subject matter overlapped, and we ran into trouble with controlling vocabulary both within and across collections.  That means, whether browsing the collection folder lists or doing a keyword search on the finding aid site, a researcher will not find everything they are looking for in one place or under one heading.

The issue of controlled vocabulary has posed a problem throughout our project, particularly in regard to the faceted search on our finding aid site, which I won’t get into here.  In fact, I am not talking about name and subject authorities, I am talking about titling folders.

5 of us processed at the Art Museum.  When you have 5 different people whipping through collections at record speeds, you risk getting 5 different ways of arranging and describing records.  This problem is amplified when the collection’s creator wasn’t so great about consistent filing either.  Even when processors make it a point to talk to each other about filing decisions, which we did, some files and topics fall through the cracks and end up disbursed throughout the collection, rather than forming a cohesive (and easy to use) group of related records.

In cases like the Art Museum’s, where you (and 4 of your colleagues) are processing a group of related collections, describing collections consistently is important.  It’s also a really hard thing to achieve in MPLP.  What I found most frustrating, was how obvious the mistakes were when we were completing data entry.  In a different environment, we’d have time to correct those discrepancies, but in our world we must live with them!

MPLP is good for your health!

Wednesday, December 7th, 2011

During the summer, Holly and I tackled the Marketing and Public Relations Department records at the Philadelphia Museum of Art Archives.  This was a great collection for MPLP and, if I heard Holly correctly, we processed the collection in under 2 hours per linear foot!

According to Susie Anderson, the Museum’s archivist, this collection gets a lot of use, especially internally.  Before processing, the collection was difficult to use because it was accessioned in so many chunks over time that information on particular subjects, artists or exhibits were literally in dozens of boxes.  With no proper finding aid there was no way for Susie to know where everything was, and pulling all those record cartons off the shelf for every reference request was kind-of a drag too.

To get the job done, Holly and I commingled several alphabetically arranged subject files into one system, relabeled files and created our finding aid.  Now, for the most part (I’ll admit, we were not able to collocate everything), files on particular topics, people or events are arranged together and there is a folder level finding aid.  With any luck, Susie will only have to look in one or two record cartons to find what she needs and be satisfied that she has found it all!

After processing this collection I can verify that pulling over-stuffed record cartons on and off the shelf all day long hurts!  I don’t mean to sound like a total wimp (OK, I know, I sound like a wimp), but I feel for my fellow archivists who deal with packed record cartons on a daily basis and wonder, is that good for you physical health?  Well, maybe it isn’t bad for your health per se, but lifting those cartons on and off shelves over and over again certainly increases your chance of on-the-job injury.  At least now, thanks to minimal processing, researchers at the Art Museum can conduct more targeted searches in the Marketing and Public Relations Department records, and that means less heavy lifting for Susie.

In case you are wondering what’s in the Marketing and Public Relations department records, I can tell you, there are lots of interesting things.  There’s information on the Museum’s marketing strategies for special exhibitions and documentation of outreach efforts and events going back to the 1960s.  The collection is loaded with photographs (making boxes all the more heavy) of featured works of art and Museum events.  Snapshots taken during exhibit openings and other events were especially fun, offering lots of evidence of 1980s fashions in particular.

Kids say the darndest things

Friday, October 28th, 2011

A while back I attended a lecture by our fearless leader, the Collector in Chief, Archivist of the United States David Ferriero.  Ferriero told an amusing anecdote about his first meeting with the head archivists of all the Presidential libraries. Unbeknownst to Ferriero, the Presidential archivists prepared for the meeting by digging through their collections for traces of the newly-appointed AOTUS—that day, Ferriero was surprised and delighted to be presented with facsimiles of three letters he had written as a youth to his idols, Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson. You can view these fan letters from an adoring schoolboy on Flickr .

Now, that’s a cute story. But if you asked me to rate the adorableness of kids’ letters in the archives on a scale of 1 to 10, I might give Ferriero a 4. For some seriously sweet correspondence, head over to Temple and ask to see the South Street Dance Company records. On a scale of 1 to 10, Marcus here gets a 12: this letter to the South Street Dance Co. is cavity-inducing.

Why is this letter in the archives? Ellen Forman, the founder of South Street Dance Company, was more than just a talented dancer and innovative choreographer: she was committed to using dance as an outreach tool. She developed dance-centric community programs for children as well as the elderly, encouraging inter-generational participation in the arts and community-building. The collection, therefore, is a fantastic resource not only for choreographers and dance historians, but also for anyone interested in creative community engagement programs. Because of the stacks of thank-you letters for kids who enjoyed her programs, this would probably also be a useful collection for someone attempting to come up with a systematic classification system for rating adorable-ness of children’s letters, but we’ll call that a secondary research value…

Unfortunately, the PACSCL-CLIR “Hidden Collections” project is drawing to a close, and the South Street Dance Company records was the last collection that Michael and I had the opportunity to process. I’m happy to say that it left a sweet taste in our mouths. Our sincerest thanks go out to the repositories that hosted us over the past eight months—the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, the National Archives and Records Administration (Mid-Atlantic Region), and Temple University. We would also like to thank YOU, dear reader, for your interest in the project and attention to our blog. Thank you for sharing this wonderful experience with us!

What was my favorite part of working on the “Hidden Collections” project? Well, I think Marcus said it best: “I liked when I danced on stage.”

M’Carty and Davis: 19th century booksellers

Friday, October 21st, 2011

Have you ever wondered how books were sold in the nineteenth century, long before the advent of Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com? Probably not. I certainly hadn’t—at least not until my processing partner Dan and I started working on the M’Carty and Davis collection at the Rosenbach Museum and Library.

As we learned while processing this collection, nineteenth-century book selling didn’t just happen in the context of a traditional, brick-and-mortar store—at least at M’Carty and Davis, a Philadelphia book-selling and -publishing firm launched by William McCarty and Thomas Davis in 1816. Although it maintained a shop in the City of Brotherly Love, M’Carty and Davis made much of its money through the endeavors of a corps of traveling salesmen who peddled company wares across western Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Virginia.

According to historian Rosalind Remer, author of Printers and Men of Capital: Philadelphia Book Publishers in the New Republic , M’Carty and Davis’ business model differed from that of other booksellers in early nineteenth century America. Their salesmen traveled widely, sold books on the spot, hooked subscribers for future publications, and exchanged inventory with other area sellers. These activities, along with the distribution of mail-order catalogs, linked urban M’Carty and Davis with rural Americans eager for reading material.

The sales journals of M’Carty and Davis’ salesmen are part of the collection now open for research at the Rosenbach Museum and Library.

Item Level Processing – For Realz?

Wednesday, October 19th, 2011

Christiana and I recently had the great pleasure of processing the Julien Levy Gallery records at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.  This collection is so rad, we just can’t stop talking about it.  Levy, a New York art gallery owner, introduced Surrealism to America in the 1930s and 40s.  As a result, his papers are riddled with letters from Salvador Dali, Man Ray, Marcel Duchamp, Frida Kahlo, and many more artists and philosophers of the Surrealist movement.

Now, I know you’re thinking – Jenna.  Why are you blogging about processing styles when we could talk about the goings-on of drunken Surrealists?  Answer: Because I’m still suffering from trauma induced by item-level processing, and I need to talk it out.

The Levy papers came to us with a certain level of previous processing.  It’s actually a very impressive story – a secretary for the Levy family, with no previous archival experience, arranged Julien’s papers and created some really thorough, kick-ass excel spreadsheets in lieu of a finding aid.  Our job was to re-folder the collection and reorganize the files into a new series list, then import the excel spreadsheets into Archivist Toolkit.  Easy, right?  WRONG.

Our challenge (or really, Holly and Courtney’s challenge) was thus: how do you take a well-described collection and then un-describe it through minimal processing?  Why would you even do that?  And what sort of finding aid would we be able to finagle for this truly awesome collection?

While the bosses pondered the tough questions, Christiana and I tackled the excel spreadsheets.  We knew that the collection was very well described, and our goal was simply to make the folder titles as uniform and streamlined as possible.  But unbeknownst to us, editing the excel spreadsheet would prove to me an emotional journey the likes of which we may never experience again.

From the very beginning, we came across folder titles like this:

Schawinsky, Xanti: To Julien Levy listing income and expenses with reference to the Bourjois drawings, congratulating Julien and Jean’s marriage, foreword to exhibition catalog written by Alexander Dorner, biographical information, greeting cards with photos by Schawinsky, exhibition catalog from Galleria la Colonna in Firenze;

And our personal favorite:

Antheil, George: To Julien and Jean, How are things in New York City?

Can you see what I mean about an emotional journey?  First we laughed, then we panicked, and eventually, we just cried.  We sat there for weeks, computer drones side-by-side, mouths slack as we inserted a colon here and a comma there.  And then one day, Christiana said the thing that would change my life FOREVER.

“Well,” she said, sighing over a particularly long folder title.  “That’s item level description for ya.”

My head whipped around.  “What?”

She regarded me strangely.  “Item-level processing?  Here,” she turned back to the computer and typed in a few search words.  When she found what she was looking for, she tilted the computer screen to face me.  “Here’s the finding aid for a collection I item-level processed a few years ago.  Took me forever.”

I stared with increasing horror at the folder titles describing, in minute detail, the topics covered in correspondence, who sent their regards to whom, and exactly how many pages of diaries contained writing.  Now, I’m not a complete dummy.  I know what item level processing is, at least in theory.  But I’ve really only ever done minimal processing.  Is THIS why every repository in the world has a backlog?  Is this why time seems to slow down as soon as you hit the archives doors?

I’ve never had an opinion in the minimal vs. item level processing debate until now.  As someone who comes from a history background, I usually approach archives from a researcher/use perspective.  And I can still say that, in my opinion, item level processing is totally unnecessary.  If someone can glean enough information from a finding aid to write a freaking book, then it shouldn’t be happening.

I sound like I’ve gone rogue, but seriously.  It’s okay to let the researcher do a little work.  More often than not, researchers really enjoy the discovery process.  If we have the time or resources to do some extra collection description, then of course we should (maximal processing, anyone?)  But until then, I think we should focus on getting the collections ready for use as quickly and efficiently as possible.

As for Christiana and I, we may be seeing excel spreadsheets in our dreams for many months to come.