Minimal Processing

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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.

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.

Keeping the minimal processing dialog going: The views of a student processor

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

(In response to:  Keeping the Minimal Processing Dialog going, by Courtney Smerz and Reflections on Training and the PACSCL/CLIR Project, by Jack McCarthy, CA, Archival Consultant.)

Mr. McCarthy’s concern over dealing with separated materials within the “More Product, Less Process” methodology is certainly valid. When faced with a folder containing seemingly unrelated or miscellaneous material, it is extremely difficult to know which course of action is appropriate.  As a processor in these situations, you must ask yourself “should these items be separated or maintained,” and as importantly, “how will slowing my pace here impact how I treat the rest of the collection?”

The best approach to take really depends on the situation. For example one of our first collections, the Douglas and Dorothy Steere papers, included a box that has attained special status within our project; the “box of despair.” Inside the box was a mound of loose papers, with no apparent order.

Holly recommended that as a team we separate the materials within this box, grouping the material by general categories such as correspondence, notes, photographs, etc.  From there we were able to integrate that material into pre-existing series as we further processed the collection. This approach was necessary for the “box of despair” because if the box was left in its current state, it would never have been accessible to researchers. Additionally, original order in the Steere collection had been compromised throughout the years as a result of so many processors working on small parts of the collection. Therefore, in order to complete processing, we had to integrate boxes of separated material based on what we thought made appropriate intellectual sense. As a team we continued to use this approach when faced with similarly daunting piles of disorganized materials.

In other instances, we have been advised by Holly and Courtney not to separate material from folders if it appears that original order would suffer as a result. Instead, they have recommended that we keep the folder in its current state and make a correlating “scope and content” note in the finding aid. In a recent collection, The Thornton Oakley collection of Howard Pyle and his Students, this approach was implemented. In one folder there were several magazine clippings that could have potentially been separated individually and placed elsewhere in the series. Yet because original order had been maintained throughout most of the collection, we decided to leave the folder in its current state and label it “Assorted Tearsheets collected by Thornton Oakley 1887-1911.” Within the finding aid we added a note stating, “this box contains tear sheets from Scribner’s, Harper’s, and The Literary Digest.” This maintains original order, while at the same time highlighting content that a researcher may find valuable.

The situational approach is our best hope for reconciling the dilemma of separated materials.  While it is difficult to ensure that every decision we make is correct, over time we are improving the methods used deal with “grey area” issues such as this one.

Keeping the minimal processing dialog going

Tuesday, June 8th, 2010

Jack McCarthy brings up some good points about the challenges of minimal processing.  And it’s so great to get some feedback from an experienced archivist!  However, his blog post has brought to my attention a new concern; that our boot camp does not clearly express a crucial aspect of our methodology – that our processing plans are designed to be a starting point.

In fact, Jack’s concern about destroying important original order is already on our radar, and we work very hard to ensure that poor (and irreversible) processing decisions are not made.  That is why we create processing plans for every collection and why we do not treat all collections the same.  Sometimes, as in the case of Jack’s collection, we do advise our processors to separate materials by genre, other times we absolutely do not.  It all depends on our impression of each collection, information found in the survey, the collection’s custodial history, what the repository archivist has to say, and our time frame.  All of these issues are taken into consideration before we finalize the processing plan. In many cases, we work with whatever order is apparent to avoid separating materials in that manner, often advising our processors to resist the urge to over-complicate matters by trying to impose some complicated, unnecessary arrangement.  Before any arrangement decisions are acted on, the processors are instructed to read the entire processing plan and review the physical collection to form their own opinions.

We know, while we get it right a lot of the time, we are not right 100% of the time, and our processors are encouraged to talk to each other, repository staff, and us about the collections if they disagree with our proposed plan and they do.  In Jack’s case, if memory serves, we discussed his concerns and, for one of the folders in question, I felt he was correct; the papers should stay together and in the end they did.  In the other instances, I felt it was not as much of a concern for a few reasons: 1) At the moment we discussed the issue, he and his partner had not been able to identify a common link between the materials in the folder, 2) I did not believe that a decision in either direction would negatively impact the use or value of the materials for this particular collection, and 3) Holly had already seen the collection, created the processing plan, looked at the papers again, and stood by her decision.  In the end, I believe Jack decided to leave some of the folders intact and I am OK with his decision to approach the collection in this different way.

The bottom line is that nothing about our project is set in stone – it cannot be.  That is what makes training for minimal processing so difficult and why we are constantly looking for ways to make our training (and methodology, for that matter) better and stronger.  We can not provide an example for every potential scenario.  Nor can we allow our students to ponder every decision they will be asked to make, although we have them working in teams so that they can discuss issues such as this.  Minimal processing is tricky, especially at two hours per linear foot, and we know it.  That is why we create the processing plans and why we encourage and rely on our processors to express their opinions when they feel our suggestions are wrong or will negatively affect the collection in some profound way. By having these conversations, we hope that the best possible approach to processing can be identified and implemented.

Jack’s observations and concerns underscore the importance of keeping the dialog going; sharing our thoughts and experiences, as we as a profession continue to test the limits, and pros and cons of minimal processing.  His comments will certainly be taken into consideration as we move forward in our project, creating processing plans, guiding our student teams, and in future “boot camps.”

Reflections on Training and the PACSCL/CLIR Project, by Jack McCarthy, CA, Archival Consultant

Tuesday, June 1st, 2010

I recently had the opportunity to participate in the PACSCL Hidden Collections project Archival Boot Camp, the training session for the student processing archivists that will be working on the next phase of the project. While not involved in the PACSCL project myself, I am developing a project with somewhat similar goals that focuses on the collections of small, primarily volunteer-run organizations such as local historical societies, small museums, and other collecting institutions. Since my project may involve training entry-level archivists in surveying and processing collections held by these small repositories, I wanted to observe the training sessions of the PACSCL project to see how it was done in that project.

Overall, I found the Boot Camp to be a well structured, well-presented session and an effective method for training young archivists in the minimal processing practices that they will be implementing in the PACSCL project. Project Manager Holly Mengel and Project Archivist Courtney Smerz did a good job of presenting the rationale and theory behind minimal processing, providing guidelines for the minimal processing practices that will be employed in the project, and supervising the hands-on sessions in which the participants had the opportunity put those guidelines into practice. I especially liked the fact that Holley and Courtney were more interested in determining what worked and what didn’t in their approach to minimal processing than in trying to “prove” that theirs was the best approach. As per one of the goals of the PACSCL project, they are seeking to develop a model for applying minimal processing techniques to different types of collections – not just the large late twentieth-century collections that minimal processing was initially developed to address – and so they want honest assessments of both the positive and negative aspects of the methodology they have developed for the project.

Which brings me to the one problem I had with that methodology: While I found the guidelines and minimal processing practices presented in the Boot Camp to be sound and workable for the most part, and while I believe that the project is achieving its goal of making previously hidden collections more accessible in a cost-effective manner, there is one specific practice that is part of the project’s processing approach that I was uncomfortable with from an archival standpoint. It involves separating materials into distinct series when it is not clear that they actually constitute separate series, specifically the practice of taking a file that consists of a mix of different types of materials lumped together and separating these materials out into discrete series, but – and this is the critical point – without the opportunity to examine the items sufficiently to determine how they relate to one another and if they really do constitute separate series. Essentially, I feel that this is asking the processor to make item-level decisions but in a minimal processing time frame, without having the time to work with the materials enough to make informed decisions.

One of the key first steps in the processing procedure in which we were trained entails spreading a collection out and determining, fairly quickly, what series the materials should be divided into. Often, this is obvious – these diaries constitute one series, these photographs constitute another, etc. – but sometimes it is not so obvious and the decisions are more difficult. For the hands-on portion of the training, held at the Independence Seaport Museum, we broke into teams of two at one point and each team was given a small collection to process. My partner and I had the papers of George Sproule, a prominent figure in the Philadelphia maritime and shipping industry in the late nineteenth/early twentieth century. We determined most of the series (diaries, scrapbooks, photo files) without much difficulty, but there was one group of materials consisting of several thick folders containing hundreds of different types of items – correspondence, reports and business records, clippings, writings and speeches, ephemera such as invitations and event programs, and other materials – all lumped together in no apparent order. Our instructions were to separate these materials out into different series by type – correspondence in one series, clippings in another, etc. As we started to do this, I began to get uncomfortable, realizing that I really couldn’t tell what belonged together and what did not, as there were several instances in which we ended up separating materials that actually related to each other: a piece of correspondence related to an event program, or a newspaper clipping related to a speech for which there was a copy in the file. These were just a couple of the inter-relationships we were able to discern in a quick review of the records; I am sure they were many more cases of related items that we didn’t catch. By separating these items from each other I felt that we were severing the ties between them and hampering future users’ ability to see the relationship between them. I didn’t think that we had enough time to make the kind of series determinations we were being asked to make, at least with this specific set of materials.

In my opinion, when presented with such situations, it would be best to adopt a “first, do no harm” approach. Given the limited amount of time available in a minimal processing project, if there are materials about which there is some ambiguity as to their organization or interrelationships, it would be best to just leave them as is. I do not think that this approach would significantly inhibit access to a collection. A researcher using a collection would, I think, be well-served by having such materials left as they were, but with a series-level scope and content note in the finding aid providing the necessary descriptive detail about the contents of the series.

This one critique notwithstanding, I found the Boot Camp to be a very worthwhile experience and the overall approach to minimal processing employed in the project to be excellent. I think that the PACSCL Hidden Collections project is doing a great service to the archival community on several levels: the participating PACSCL repositories and their users are getting important but hidden collections arranged and described, a group of young archivists is getting excellent hands-on experience in archival processing, and the archival profession is getting a tested model for making collections available relatively quickly and cost-effectively.

American Women’s Hospitals photo collection available for research at DUCOM

Thursday, May 13th, 2010
  It seems almost impossible to believe, but EIGHT months ago, at the onset of our adventures in minimal processing, Eric Rosenzweig and I processed the American Women’s Hospitals (AWH) photograph collection, which is housed at Drexel University, College of Medicine (DUCOM), Archives and Special Collections.  Much to our regret, though processing was completed and a finding aid produced, no blog post was written for it at the time, which is a total shame.  It is a rich, evocative visual resource that uniquely documents the international work of the AWH from 1917 to 1982.

AWH developed out of the War Service Committee of the Medical Women’s National Association in 1917.  It was started to finance American women physicians for war work, offering medical and emergency relief to refugees and, later, to provide general public health services around the world.  Throughout its history, the agency focused its efforts on emergency medical care, maternity and children’s welfare, and preventive health-care programs.

In its earliest years, during and after World War I, AWH personnel labored extensively in France, Albania, Greece and the Near East to provide medical assistance to impoverished communities further devastated by the war.  Work in those countries continued throughout the 1920s and 1930s with added services in Serbia, Russia, Asia and the rural United States. The outbreak of World War II returned the agency’s attentions to Western Europe as projects of emergency medical relief were made necessary in war zones.  After World War II, the AWH shifted its focus from direct relief to financing training and employment of native female medical personnel in countries like China, Japan, Haiti, India, Southeast Asia and the Philippines.  Eventually, the organization curtailed its emergency medical services in favor of on-going prevention programs.  For example, AWH was involved in the study and prevention of pellagra, a disease resulting from malnutrition that effected the rural southern United States in epidemic proportions in the early to mid 20th century.

There’s no doubt that the women of the AWH were amazing!  And the photos found in the photograph collection evidences their amazing work in a way that textual documentation alone could not — together the photographs paint a very real and vivid portrait of the organization and its efforts over sixty-five years.

The collection is comprised of hundreds of photographs documenting field and clinic work conducted in Africa, Albania, Bolivia, France, Greece, India, Korea, Russia, Switzerland, Turkey, The United States, Vietnam and Yugoslavia.  A majority of the images depict AWH members treating patients whose health suffered from the devastation of war in Europe and elsewhere, especially after WWI, and issues of health resulting from abject poverty and malnutrition. Photographs of work conducted in the United States document the “Rural Services” division of the AWH. The earliest images in these files depict visiting doctors and nurses who traveled into remote regions of the rural south, administering health care and preventative health care education to families at their homes.  Later images depict health care provided in established clinics, like the Woman’s Maternity Shelter in Greenville, South Carolina.

As an MPLP candidate, this was a good choice.  A majority of the arrangement and identification was already done for us, which left a little bit of time to just enjoy the pictures!

Interestingly, during processing there was some healthy debate over the potential use and value of the collection.  It was argued, because the images were produced and used by the publicity department of AWH, that the composition and subject matter was likely carefully selected and staged to showcase AWH field work in an entirely positive light, and therefore the collection was not necessarily an honest or good or interesting resource.  It is true, many photos in the collection were obviously enhanced for printing in brochures and other AWH promotional materials.  However, I would argue, that most archival resources (whether written correspondence or organizational records or photographs) can offer only one point of view – that of their creator.  And what creator doesn’t have an agenda?  Furthermore, it should be noted that words can be and often are just as carefully selected as a photograph is staged.  In this case, realizing the images to be what they are – internally produced and maybe at times staged images – makes them an incredibly powerful resource that could be used to inform a variety of research topics.  Besides, images of injured and ill people are honestly revealing (and heart-wrenching) no matter what.  Whether candid snapshots or carefully constructed compositions doesn’t change the fact that the subjects were in fact starving, sick or hurt and that AWH tried to help them.

Needless to say, I personally feel that this is a fabulous resource depicting the work of AWH in a way that textual records can not.  For those of you out there who, like my colleague, do not always trust images, you’ll be glad to know that there is a complimentary collection of textual records of the American Women’s Hospitals that is also available for research at DUCOM.

E.R. Fenimore Johnson–a potentially explosive collection at Academy of Natural Sciences

Wednesday, April 28th, 2010
Last week I finished processing the E.R. Fenimore Johnson photographs at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. If ever a creator of a collection should have been an archivist, it was E.R. Fenimore Johnson, the son of Eldridge R. Johnson,  founder and President of the Victor Talking Machine Company of Camden, NJ.  Fenimore Johnson was a documenter. He took photographs of everything–and even more importantly–he took notes on and identified the subjects of his photographs which make this collection an amazing resource.

Fenimore Johnson owned an underwater photography supply company called Fenjohn.  He sold diving suits, cameras, tripods, exposure calculators, and turbidity eliminators, to name just a few.  And he took pictures of these products–lots of them.  He also used all of those products to take pictures of other things … fish, boats, people, underwater gardens, places he visited, animals, and oddly enough, air conditioners.  As I said, he documented his world.  Happily, he identified the air conditioner as an air conditioner, as I am not an expert on either air conditioners circa 1930-1935 or underwater photography equipment.  An interesting component of this collection is his series of test photographs in which he documents two photographs of the same thing taken with different equipment.  For someone in the know, I believe these photos would be amazing.  His use of film formats is impressive–included in the collection are prints, negatives, lantern slides, and motion picture film.

Also included are some pretty amazing scrapbooks of Fenimore Johnson’s experiences on an expedition to Matto Grosso, Brazil.  His captions are indicative of the time and are, occasionally, a little on the shocking side, but the images present a world that probably no longer exists today.

I was a little worried about minimally processing an image collection, but I had nothing to fear thanks to Fenimore Johnson and his archivist tendencies (high compliment, as you might imagine!).  He created an organizational scheme that I used for processing … every print is stapled to an index card with identification and reference to the negative number … he even provided my series and subseries titles.  As a result this collection really worked for minimal processing.

I processed this collection in a lot less time than I anticipated because it is possible that about 2/3 of the negatives in the collection are on nitrate film which is not something with which archivists or researchers should spend much time working.  How do we handle a problem like this in the minimal processing at 2 hours per linear foot world?  Well, we box them up and put them in cold storage until an expert can examine them.

By comparison, in a full processing world, I would have gone through all the negatives, identified the negatives that were absolutely NOT on nitrate film, and processed them.  Fully processing this collection would have included removing the negatives from their original sleeves and placing them in mylar sleeves, at which point the processor would have looked for the the magic words: “safety film.”  Even with unlimited time, boxing up the potential nitrate negatives and placing them in cold storage would probably be the best temporary solution.  Nitrate film is highly unstable:  it is flammable and can explode with a shock … so if you have a box of nitrate negatives and you accidentally set the box on the table a little harder than you intended or if you store it near a heat source,  you could have a problem.   One piece of nitrate film is a problem and this collection contains almost 4,000 negatives, about 2/3 of which I anticipate could be nitrate.  That is a lot of nitrate.

Despite putting roughly half the collection in cold storage, researchers still have full use of the content of the collection, arranged quite tidily via Fenimore Johnson’s organizational scheme.  The only reason a researcher really would need access to the negatives is for reproduction.  We don’t know that the negatives are on nitrate, we just are not sure …  and experts say that if you are not sure, you should treat the film as nitrate.  We know that these negatives are all from the “right time” for nitrate film, that very few have any kind of markings (certainly not the “safety” designation), and that Fenimore Johnson used nitrate film–one of his motion pictures was recently saved by reformatting.  Clare Flemming, archivist at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, plans to seek help from a film expert, so if our fears prove unfounded, the rest of the collection can be processed.