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Lessons Learned from minimally processing at College of Physicians of Philadelphia

Thursday, September 9th, 2010

A month ago, Becky Koch and I finished our first “official” minimal processing project at the College of Physicians.  The records, The College of Physicians Office of the Executive Director, amounted to 112 boxes.  Overall, it was a good selection for minimal processing, with the exception of restricted materials.  This being said, there was one thing I learned about minimal processing that seems to illustrate how it should and should not be done.

The issue is the difficulty of processing with a partner while trying to get a job done as quickly as possible.  Our method was to divide the work and conquer it equally and quickly.  This was not a good method because we were not coordinated with one another on what particular name a folder should be labeled or the type of series it should be placed under.  Do we call it financial, administrative, programs…etc.  Our vocabulary and thoughts on the overall collection and arrangement were not synonymous (how could it be) and without it, both of us thought of our own individual ideas and labels.  This is also problematic later on in the collection because as the records are processed, there are usually some preliminary ideas which do not always end up in the final product.  This led to a very large amount of rearranging and re-titling when we finally put the collection together intellectually.  This problem led me to realize that if an archivist is processing with a partner, almost all folder ideas, series ideas, and titles need to be discussed thoroughly while processing so that the two archivists are not processing one collection using two different organizational and title schemes.

Fortunately for both of us, the following records we processed, the Southeastern Pennsylvania Synod records at the Lutheran Theological Seminary were processed with much more discussion over what each of us thought were parts of the organization and we discussed titles in detail.  This made the processing and organizing less complicated and created more fluent folder and series titles.

RTC Shipbuilding Company records

Friday, September 3rd, 2010

Another interesting collection that we have processed at Independence Seaport Museum is the RTC Shipbuilding Company records. The collection covers the shipbuilding and repair history of the company’s work from 1934 to 1965. It contains a great number of design plans and photographs that help document the building process of many ships.

RTC was started by three men, whose initials stand for each letter in RTC. The company was based in Camden, New Jersey, right across the river from Philadelphia. One of the neat things is that you can see the area where RTC operated from outside of the museum. The heaviest building period for RTC occurred during World War II when they built oil barges, tug boats and oil tankers for the United States Navy. For their high quality of workmanship and fast rate of production, RTC received two Army-Navy “E” Pennant four star awards. Not only was this a proud achievement for the company, it also solidified their presence as a major shipbuilding corporation on the Delaware River.

The best part of processing this collection had to be looking at all the images in the “Photographs” series. There are photographs of christenings and launchings, shipbuilding, the employees, company social events and the yard. Out of all the other collections we have worked on, I have never seen such a thorough collection of photographs that cover a wide extent of the supporting paper documents. It is a great benefit for researchers that I’m sure will be taken advantage of.

Another interesting part of this collection are the J.J. Baugean glass negatives of French ship prints. All the glass slides are prints of engravings of various French and European ships from history. They are absolutely beautiful when seen and from some research that I’ve completed, they are also somewhat rare. It is a mystery as to whom they belonged or how they got to RTC. Dates written on their box indicate that the prints were made or purchased in the early 1920s, which is before RTC was created. Our best guess was that the slides were used to make large decorative prints to hang in the RTC offices, but we were just speculating for our own enjoyment!

Overall, the RTC Shipbuilding collection was a great collection to work with and a good candidate for minimal processing. The majority of the collection was foldered when we started, so the bulk of our time was spent arranging the material into series and entering in all the data into Archivists’ Toolkit. With the extra time that we saved, Forrest and I were able to research and analyze the ships more which helped us to have a better understanding of the company and the collection. RTC was a very active company in the shipbuilding and repair industry and I know that this collection will be extremely useful to anyone interested in their work.

Dirty Processing: The John H. Mathis Company records

Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

The John H. Mathis Company was a major shipbuilding firm based out of Camden, New Jersey. Founded in 1870, the company built and repaired yachts, river steamers, tugs, barges, car floats, and other varieties of shipping vessels. The impressive collection of Mathis Company records available at the Independence Seaport Museum includes the business papers, photographs, and measured drawings.

The drawings, which number in the thousands, arrived at the Seaport Museum covered in soot and other dirt.  Apparently they had been sitting for years in the former Mathis Shipyard (closed in 1960), and were “rescued” from certain “doom by disintegration.”

While I have processed film reels, maps, and even medical instruments on this project, these measured drawings were a true test. We had to empty nearly 30 boxes of these plans, and sort them by design number. Just a few plans were enough to turn brand-new white gloves into the dirty mitts that looked like they belonged to a chimney sweep.  We ruined several pairs, but only after permission from the head archivist, of course!

After hours of sorting, we were able to arrange every measured drawing by design number.  Though our process was hardly an exact science, we laid dozens of boxes across three huge tables and assigned each box with a range of design numbers.  We then removed each plan from its original container and placed it in the corresponding box. Of course we had to make several adjustments along the way, but our final product imposes at least some order on the thousands of previously loose drawings.

Despite the dirt and grease, this collection taught me a great deal about minimal processing. It is impossible to apply “More Product, Less Product” to this type of material.  Because each drawing contains minute details of complex ship designs, it would take countless hours to open each roll and record these details. Therefore, we elected to simply record the design number and box location. This is not ideal, but given our time constraints, it was our only option.  However, not all measured drawings are described at this level. Researchers will find a couple hundred select plans from a few different Mathis-built ships described in greater detail in the library vaults. These plans had been processed by a past volunteer with substantial knowledge of the Mathis Company, and are included in the collection.

Thomas D. Bowes M.E., Associates records

Monday, August 23rd, 2010

At the Independence Seaport Museum, the first collection that Forrest and I processed was the Thomas D. Bowes M.E., Associates records. This collection contained design plans, measured drawings, photographs, printed materials, patents and records all relating to the naval architecture firm of Bowes. With 95 boxes and 4,123 rolled plans, it was also the largest collection that we worked on at the museum.

Known as “Tugboat Tom,” Bowes designed over 800 vessels during his sixty year career as a naval architect. He designed over eighty tug boats, several of Philadelphia’s fire boats and over 300 yachts. Bowes also held many different patents for various vessel designs, including the Bowes Drive, which reduced the speed between the engine and drive shafts in marine installations. He was known as a specialist in compressing maximum power and utility into minimum hull space for his clients that wanted compact crafts.

Born and raised in Philadelphia, Bowes grew up sailing on the Jersey Shore at both Cape May and Atlantic City. His father not liking the seafaring lifestyle, encouraged Bowes to become a lawyer or bishop to which he replied: “I have neither the brains for law not the goodness for religion. I will be what I have to be.” So hoping to give his son a reality check, Bowes’ father sent him out on square-riggers during his summer vacations. Bowes would join the ship in Philadelphia or New Jersey, sail around the Horn of South America and arrive in California with just enough time to take a train back East to start school again. The rigorous voyages did not deter Bowes from his dream of working with ships and by the time that he entered Cornell University in 1901, he had earned the rank of second mate.

An interesting aspect of this collection is how well it ties into the other collections that we are processing at ISM. Two other collections that we are working on, the John H. Mathis Company collection and RTC Shipbuilding Corporation records, actually built and repaired ships and yachts that Bowes designed. It is interesting to be able to track the history of some vessels through their different stages of life and use.

One of the most famous ships that Bowes designed was the diesel yacht Lenore II for Sewell L. Avery, the President of Montgomery Ward, Director of U.S. Steel and President of Gypsum. Finished in 1931, the yacht was Avery’s personal cruiser until the United States government loaned her during World War II as a patrol vessel. The Navy seized her in 1945 to become an escort and stand-in for the White House yacht Williamsburg for President Truman. However, when President Eisenhower came into office, he refurbished and rechristened the Lenore II as Barbara Ann and made the yacht the Presidential yacht. The next three Presidents renamed the yacht during their terms in office. President Kennedy named her Honey Fitz, which President Johnson kept in his honor, and President Nixon named her Patricia.

In 1970, the yacht was sold by President Nixon, who wanted a larger ship, to the Seaport Line in New York City where the yacht was used as a charter boat. For the next eighteen years, the ship bounced between owners and eventually was bought in 1998 by a business for $5.9 million dollars. The name Honey Fitz has been restored to the yacht and it is currently undergoing extensive repair and restoration, which you can watch here.   There are also great links to news stories and Kennedy home movies that feature the yacht.

When starting this collection, we had no idea how Bowes and his company influenced ship and boat design. Many of his ships are still used today in different ports around the country. This collection was a great way to get our feet wet in naval and maritime history at the Archives of the ISM.

Drexel University College of Medicine legacy finding aids: Parcelsus and Mary E. Walker

Friday, August 6th, 2010

Of all the different collections I have created finding aids for in Archivists’ Toolkit, two from the Drexel University College of Medicine stand out.  They are Hering’s Paracelsus Collection and the Lida Poynter collection on Mary E. Walker.  I had to do a fair amount of research to write detailed biography notes for each of these collections.  Hering’s Paracelsus collection is Dr. Constantine Hering’s personal collection of books that were first donated to Hahnemann University Hospital.   The collection is composed of books on, about, or written by the medieval doctor, scientist, and alchemist,  Philip Theophrastus Bombast von Hohenheim, who is best known now as Paracelsus.  The Lida Poynter collection on Mary E. Walker is composed of the research notes and a draft of Poynter’s unpublished biography on the suffragist, feminist, and Medal of Honor winner Dr. Mary E. Walker.  These two collections show the variety of material that can be found in just one archive.

Hering’s Paracelsus collection’s finding aid provided many challenges.  First it was a card catalog that had to be converted into a finding aid that would fit nicely in Archivists’’ Toolkit.  The cards were scanned and then made into a PDF that was then made into a Word document from which I could cut and paste the information.  As many people know, the Optical Character Recognition (OCR) process creates some mistakes in the text.  Also, only one or two cards were in English.  Through the process, which was actually sometimes more entertaining than tedious, I became well acquainted with old German and I enjoyed the chance to practice some high school and college Latin that I haven’t used in a long time.

Once the container list was entered, I began to do some research on Dr. Hering and Paracelsus.  Dr. Hering, the “father of homeopathy in America,” was interesting in his own right and he is the topic of another collection at DUCOM.  The breadth of activities in which Paracelsus was involved make him a fascinating topic, and there is a surprising amount of information that has survived about him.  He lived his short life in the early 1500s, a time period when people considered the ancient Greek and Roman doctors, Hippocrates and Galen, the authorities on medicine.  Paracelsus challenged many of the assumptions and established practices of the time, and helped bring medicine as a science beyond the ancient traditions.  He is credited with being the first one to say “it is the dose that makes the poison.”  Understanding this about Paracelsus makes it easy to see why the “father of homeopathy in America” wanted to learn everything he could about him.

The Lida Poynter collection on Mary E. Walker is about an equally fascinating individual.  Mary Walker was born in 1832 and died in 1919.  Her father had all his daughters work in the field with him and his son.  Since they were working in the fields, he wanted his daughters to be able to move freely and comfortably, so he banned his daughters from wearing heavy dresses and corsets.  He was also an amateur country doctor who believed most women’s fashions at the time were bad for their health.  This idea stayed with Mary and she devoted much of her life to dress reform.  She first experimented with trousers underneath dresses, then short skirts, eventually she abandoned the dress altogether and wore men’s suits that she altered to fit her frame.  She even wore a short skirt over trousers and a frock coat at her wedding in 1855.  She also had the word obey removed from the service, which in 1855 was remarkable.

Her father encouraged Mary to study medicine when she showed a talent for it.  When Mary was old enough to go to college, she went to Syracuse Medical College, the first medical school in the country to admit women.  She graduated as an M.D. and went on to open her own practice, which was not very successful.  At this point, the Civil War was getting underway and this is when her life gets even more interesting.

First she served in Washington D.C. as a volunteer in the army hospitals.  The doctor in charge was so impressed with her ability that he recommended that she be appointed an assistant surgeon, but she was repeatedly rejected because she was a woman.  After leaving and then coming back, she was finally given a commission and sent to Tennessee as the first female doctor in the Union army.  While serving on the front lines, she would often go unescorted and unarmed into enemy territory to offer medical aid to civilians.  She believed by doing this she would help turn the civilians to the Union cause.  She was also acting as a spy for the Union and reporting Confederate troop movements.  Eventually she was captured by the Confederacy, and later released as part of a prisoner exchange.

For her work with the Army, she was the first, and only, woman to be awarded the Medal of Honor.  In 1917 her Medal of Honor was rescinded along with 910 others when the requirements for receiving the Medal were changed.  She refused to return her Medal and wore it until her death in 1919.  Often police would stop and question her because she wore pants and was considered to be impersonating a man.  During these encounters when they would ask for her name, she would point to it on her Medal of Honor that was always pinned to her lapel.  In 1977, after many years of work by her grand-niece and a distant relative, President Carter restored her Medal of Honor.  This blog post only scratches the surface of this amazing woman’s life.

Minimal Processing and Sensitive Materials: A Tricky Situation

Wednesday, August 4th, 2010

At the College of Physicians we processed a collection of administrative records from the Office of the Executive Director of the College.  The collection almost entirely consisted of administrative records, and we came across everything from correspondence and memos, to meeting minutes and financial documents.

Processing this collection went relatively smoothly.  Very little refoldering had to be completed, and most files were already labeled and in some kind of order.  The records were in good condition so there was no major conservation or preservation issues to be concerned about.  We did need to go through an extensive process of reorganization though, as this collection was accessioned at different times and many records needed to be interfiled.  We also came across several boxes of files that were unlabeled, or not in files whatsoever.  Yet perhaps our most pressing problem concerned restricted records.  This collection contained donor information, financial and budget information, and copies of resumes and cover letters for applicants of past job searches.   As we processed this collection we marked anything we thought might be sensitive information as “restricted,” erring on the side of caution, thinking that it was best for librarians at the College to know that these documents exist and then decide for themselves the proper access policies.  Although we felt this was a good solution for restricting these records, in practice this policy was not entirely effective.   While some folders were obviously full of sensitive information (such as budget sheets etc) and were clearly to be restricted, we found other restricted documents mixed in with regular, non sensitive materials.  This fact brings up two issues: due to time restraints we could not take the time to separate these mixed folders into restricted and non restricted materials so we had to restrict access to entire folders, even if there was only one page of sensitive information.  This means that a significant amount of should-be accessible information has become inaccessible.  Secondly, there’s a very good chance that we did not see some sensitive information that was mixed in with regular records, and therefore this information will not be labeled as restricted.  Due to the mixed nature of these records and the guidelines of minimal processing, this was sadly unavoidable.  Using minimal processing techniques, it would have been impossible to examine every record in every folder, so some restricted information is bound to have slipped through the cracks.

After discussing the situation with the head librarian, it was decided that folders labeled as restricted will be examined by the librarian or archivist when a researcher requests access.  It will then be decided whether the documents are truly sensitive, or how much of the file is accessible.

Hollywood in Philadelphia? The Lubin Manufacturing Company collection at Free Library of Philadelphia

Thursday, July 15th, 2010
While at the Free Library of Philadelphia, Forrest and I had the opportunity to process one of the most interesting and exciting collections that we have ever seen: the Lubin Manufacturing Company records collection. The collection contained scrapbooks, bulletins, business records, photographs, advertisements, and artifacts relating to Siegmund Lubin, the founder of the Lubin film empire, and his company.

Lubin created one of the largest motion picture production companies in the world from 1895 to 1916, all of which began with the purchase of a film projector. His biography truly spells out the American dream. Lubin emigrated from Germany to the United States, worked as an optician, and found his way into the movie industry solely by his extreme interest in film production. He was a savvy entrepreneur and a gifted marketer, but unfortunately, did not invest in the overall quality of his films or heed the copyright laws, all of which led to the company’s collapse in 1916.

Since the Lubin Manufacturing Company lasted for such a brief time, its records are sparse and the films even more rare. An explosion destroyed thousands of feet of film in Lubin’s main studio in 1914. Currently, there are only a few institutions that have Lubin Manufacturing Company collections, of which the Free Library has the largest amount of textual material. So, this collection was not only exciting to work with, but rewarding to process since the materials had little original order and were scattered throughout the Theatre Collection at the Free Library.

A couple of photographs of one movie, ‘Disaster Movie,” caught us by surprise. We kept finding stills of a time progression of two trains colliding into each other, all with the title of the film penciled in on the reverse of the photographs. Deciding to do some further research into the movie, we found out that the train scene cost $20,000 to film in the 1910s and that two old scrapped engines were purchased to make this scene. Since it cost so much to get the train disaster scene and the audiences loved it, Lubin decided to use it in five different films to get the most for his money (again, he was a savvy business man). There is a clip of the train scene on YouTube and you can watch it by clicking here.

Even though the whole collection was fascinating, the artifacts were the icing on the cake. There is a Lubin paperweight, a Lubin film projector from 1905, and even the hood ornament from Siegmund Lubin’s car: his logo created into bronze bell. Also included in the artifacts was a box of reels and VHS tapes about the company, film clips, and ones that only had vague names, like Reel 8. With no way to know what is on the reels and no equipment to view them on, it is sad that we couldn’t have spent more time finding out what they were and who they were about.

Starting the Lubin collection, we knew that we were going to have a fun time processing these materials. But one thing that I don’t think that we realized was the rarity of the collection and Lubin materials in general.

Because of the 1914 explosion, only 29 Lubin films have been located in the world, the majority of which are fragments. Luckily, while searching about the train scene, we came across the Betzwood Film Archive. Located at Montgomery County Community College, the archive maintains information about the Lubin company and Betzwood history. Every year they host the Betzwood Film Festival, at which a selection of Lubin films are screened the way they were meant to be shown: on a large screen and with live musical accompaniment. Needless to say, the Lubin collection at the Free Library is an exceptional resource to researchers interested in the Lubin film empire and the history of early moviemaking.

Legacy Finding Aids

Monday, July 12th, 2010

For the past two months I’ve been entering legacy finding aids into Archivists’ Toolkit.  So far, most of the finding aids I have entered have been from the Rare Book and Manuscript Library at the University of Pennsylvania.  I have also worked with finding aids from the Drexel University College of Medicine, the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, and I just started on a couple finding aids from the City of Philadelphia Archives.

The Penn finding aids were all electronic documents that I could easily cut and paste into the appropriate fields in Archivists’ Toolkit.  The finding aids were complete with extensive biographical/historical notes, scope and content notes, and detailed container lists.  I began with these because they were so complete and posed few obvious problems.

While the PACSCL/CLIR project is using MPLP to process collections at the individual repositories, the legacy finding aids that I am dealing with are for collections that have been processed to a variety of levels.  At Penn, all the finding aids are for collections that have been processed to the folder and sometimes item level.  The problems that did come up with these finding aids resulted from how detailed they were.  One collection had a 45 page biographical note.  Archivists’ Toolkit would not save this massive note and kept showing a bug report.  Thinking it was a formatting issue, I copied and pasted a few pages at a time and saved each time, until it produced the error report.  I then typed the note in Archivists’ Toolkit and saved until it produced the same error report.  This way I was able to confirm it was the size of the note that was producing the problem.  Another problem, with the same finding aid, was footnotes.  This was a very detailed biographical note and it referenced items in the collection.  Archivists’ Toolkit’s text entry is very basic and keeping most formatting that is in the original document is very difficult.  I was able to solve this by making the footnotes endnotes.

Drexel University College of Medicine’s finding aids often had detailed container lists with clearly identified series, so the data entry was rather straightforward.  However, each finding aid had only sketches or timelines for their biographical notes so I had to do some research and expand on them, which turned out to be a lot of fun, and I want to talk about them at greater length in a future post.

The Historical Society of Pennsylvania’s finding aids are a mix of standard finding aid, narrative description, and inventory.  So far, I have only worked on three collections.  The finding aid for the Mutual Assurance Company records, better known as Greentree, was fairly complete.  The problem with this collection was that it was written as a narrative rather than as a standard finding aid.  Many of the paragraphs began with a box number and a general description, and then finally, a list of what was in the box.  It was fairly easy to extract the box number, a general title, and the container list.  However, because it was a narrative, what would typically be the biographical note was spread throughout the entire document.  I was able to go through it and put it all together for a more traditional note.  Some of the other finding aids are more or less just container lists and I will need to write notes for them.

One thing I have learned over the past couple of months is that standardization is strongly needed in the archival community.  Learning about different attempts at standardization and standards that have been created is one thing, but this experience has shown me why it is needed.  That being said, it has also shown me how and why it is so difficult to create standards for archival collections.

Legacy finding aids entered into the Archivists’ Toolkit thus far:

Drexel University College of Medicine

  • Constantine Hering Paracelsus collection, 1502-1858
  • Lida Poynter collection on Mary Walker, 1850-1946
  • Longshore Family papers, 1819-1946
  • Northwestern University Women’s Medical School records, 1870-1947
  • West Philadelphia Hospital for Women records, 1889-1932
  • Women’s Hospital of Philadelphia records, 1861-1964
  • University of Pennsylvania

  • Musical Fund Society records, circa 1820-1994
  • Musical Fund Society Supplementary records, circa 1820-2004
  • Mahler-Werfel papers, circa 1880-2004
  • Edward F. Fry papers, 1947-1992
  • Learned Collection on German-Language Theater, 1832-1898
  • The Records of the Women’s Health Concerns Committee, 1974-1984
  • Collection on the Physician’s Forum, 1939-1998
  • Paul Lowinger collection, 1951-1986
  • Historical Society of Pennsylvania

  • Mutual Assurance Company records (Greentree), 1784-1995
  • The records of the Second Baptist Church of Philadelphia, 1803-1972
  • Boies Penrose Pictorial Philadelphia collection, 1855-1992
  • These collections will be available for research soon!

    19th Century Playbills at Free Library of Philadelphia

    Friday, July 9th, 2010

    During the 19th century, Philadelphians flocked to theaters in droves to see burlesque shows, minstrel shows, vaudeville, melodramas, comedies, and musicals. The demand for this type of entertainment can be seen in the sheer number of theaters open in Philadelphia during this time, with the most popular destinations being the Walnut Street, Chestnut Street, Continental, Arch Street, and Academy of Music theaters. The 19th Century Playbills collection at the Free Library provides a fascinating glimpse into the Philadelphia theater culture throughout this time period, not only through the spans of playbills in the collection, but also the dozens of scrapbooks put together by theatergoing fans.

    This collection boasts thousands of playbills from several Philadelphia theaters. The Chestnut Street Theater, one of Philadelphia’s earliest, has playbills in this collection dating back as early as 1803. The Walnut and Arch Street Theaters are also well represented in the collection, with hundreds of playbills for each theater.

    Each playbill provided all the information the public would need in deciding whether or not they would attend a production. This typically included a list of actors, a schedule of events (most theaters would offer more than one event per evening), ticket prices, and even a synopsis of the plays.

    Like film and theater fans today, many theatergoers during the 19th century weren’t satisfied with simply attending a production. They wanted to document their theater experiences by saving the playbills, tickets, and related ephemera of performances they attended. Some enthusiasts even arranged these saved items into scrapbooks. The 19th Century Playbills collection includes dozens of theater-related scrapbooks assembled by Philadelphians. Flipping through the pages of these scrapbooks, one can see the various interests of theatergoers during this period. Some scrapbooks were dutifully arranged by date and location, as if the creator wanted to track their weekly theater consumption. Other scrapbooks resemble collages, with playbills, ticket stubs, and published reviews glued adjacent to one another, representing a more overall experience.

    Some were dedicated exclusively to photos of popular actors and actresses, a reminder that American celebrity culture has deeper roots than one might expect. Overall, this was an amazing collection for anyone looking to learn more about Philadelphia theater history.

    The Changing Face of the College of Physicians Library

    Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

    Today, the College of Physicians of Philadelphia is known throughout the world for its disturbing, yet fascinating Mütter Museum.  However this was not always the main draw of the College of Physicians, which was founded in 1787 as America’s first medical organization. Throughout most of the institution’s history, physicians and other medical professionals came to the College to teach and conduct medical research. The College’s Library played a crucial role in supporting these functions, as it held both extremely rare medical texts, as well as contemporary medical journals.  Over the last few decades however, the Library has shifted its focus from a medical library for physicians, to an independent research library dedicated to the history and heritage of medicine. The College of Physicians Library records documents this shift, demonstrating how an old institution can still offer a rich learning experience for modern researchers and the public.

    One of the ways the Library reached its audience was through the publication “Fugitive Leaves,” a newsletter dedicated to the Library’s unique and historic collections. Published irregularly from 1935 to1996, the newsletter relied on Library books and illustrations for its fascinating articles.  The Library records contains several printings of the newsletter, as well as photographs of images used.

    The Library has also supported exhibitions at the College of Physicians, providing materials for exhibitions such as “Emerging Infectious Diseases: Ancient Scourge/Modern Menace,” “Exploring Therapeutic Resources in Colonial North America,” and “Only One Man Died” (an exhibition on Lewis and Clark).

    The Library records was one of the largest collections of the “Hidden Collections” project. At times, finding all the items in the collection proved a challenge, however the Library staff was very accommodating in allowing our team to make full use of their space. This was also my last collection working with my teammate and student processor Leslie O’Neill.  It was a pleasure to work with Leslie, and we all wish her the best of luck in her future career as an archivist!