Lincoln’s Signature Accomplishments

Scene in the House of Representatives on Jan. 31, 1865. From Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, Feb. 8, 1865. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

Scene in the House of Representatives on Jan. 31, 1865. From Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, Feb. 8, 1865. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

One hundred and fifty years ago, on Jan. 31, 1865, the U.S. House of Representatives passed the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, a resolution ending slavery.

The framers of the Constitution had forged a nation built on the rights of its citizens, but one that accommodated the peculiar institution of slavery. The tension between the ideals of liberty and the reality of human bondage was unsustainable. As Abraham Lincoln prepared to take office in 1861, seven states seceded from the Union. Just weeks after Lincoln became president, the nation succumbed to a long and bloody Civil War.

The following four documents are drawn from The Huntington’s renowned collection of rare Abraham Lincoln and Civil War manuscripts and appear in “The U.S. Constitution and the End of American Slavery,” an exhibition on view in the Library’s West Hall. Each document presents a key element leading to the passage of the 13th Amendment to end slavery—Lincoln’s most significant and lasting accomplishment. And each features a signature by the nation’s 16th president.

Lincoln’s position on slavery: Letter to Alexander H. Stephens

Even as president-elect in December of 1860, Lincoln revealed his formidable leadership skills, striking a conciliatory yet firm tone in a letter to the future vice-president of the Confederacy.

Lincoln offers assurances that his administration will not interfere with slavery in the Southern states, telling Stephens: “The South would be in no more danger in this respect, than it was in the days of Washington.”

Yet Lincoln makes clears his position: “You think slavery is right and ought to be extended; while we think it is wrong and ought to be restricted. That I suppose is the rub.”

The back of Lincoln’s 1860 letter to the future vice-president of the Confederacy, Alexander H. Stephens. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

The back of Lincoln’s 1860 letter to the future vice-president of the Confederacy, Alexander H. Stephens. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

A partial victory: the Emancipation Proclamation

In his constitutional power as commander-in-chief of the armed forces, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on Jan. 1, 1863. It declared “that all persons held as slaves” within the rebellious states “are, and henceforward shall be free.”

The proclamation could not be enforced in areas still under rebellion, but it provided the legal framework to free more than three million slaves in Confederate areas that came under Union control.

The Emancipation Proclamation issued by Lincoln in his power as commander-in-chief of the armed forces. Lincoln signed this print in June 1864; it was intended to be auctioned off at a charity event. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

The Emancipation Proclamation issued by Lincoln in his power as commander-in-chief of the armed forces. Lincoln signed this print in June 1864; it was intended to be auctioned off at a charity event. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

A second term? Lincoln’s Blind Memorandum

In the summer of 1864, with the Civil War raging into its fourth year, Lincoln knew that his chances for re-election depended on military success. Yet the Union effort had stalled, and he worried about the future of the nation under a new president. He wrote a letter indicating the urgency he felt to save the Union before the next president took office, then folded the paper and pasted it closed. At a cabinet meeting, he instructed his cabinet members to sign it without viewing the contents, a directive they followed. The letter, known as the “Blind Memorandum,” stated:

This morning, as for some days past, it seems exceedingly probable that this Administration will not be re-elected. Then it will be my duty to co-operate with the President elect, as to save the Union between the election and the inauguration; as he will have secured his election on such ground that he can not possibly save it afterwards.  — A. Lincoln

Though scholars debate what Lincoln meant by saving the Union, many interpret it as pushing for passage of the 13th Amendment.

Lincoln’s “Blind Memorandum,” a letter he asked his cabinet members to sign, sight unseen. The Huntington’s copy was made by one of the memorandum’s signatories, Gideon Welles, the U.S. Secretary of the Navy. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

Lincoln’s “Blind Memorandum,” a letter he asked his cabinet members to sign, sight unseen. The Huntington’s copy was made by one of the memorandum’s signatories, Gideon Welles, the U.S. Secretary of the Navy. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

Victory: Passage of the 13th Amendment

Lincoln did win re-election. With that political hurdle behind him, he redoubled his efforts to secure passage of the 13th Amendment. The Senate had passed the amendment on April 8, 1864, but the House had failed to do so.

Lincoln and his cabinet stepped up their political maneuvering, reaching out to particular members of Congress to obtain the consensus needed to gain the two-thirds vote. On Jan. 31, 1865, the House of Representatives called another vote. A clerk read the tally: 119 ayes to 56 nays, with 8 abstaining. After a moment of stunned silence, the House erupted into celebration. The resolution had passed.

The president’s signature was not required for a constitutional amendment, though Lincoln signed several copies. The Huntington owns a souvenir copy made by chief engrossing clerk Isaac Strohm, who asked for Lincoln’s signature.

Lincoln would not live to see it become law. It took until Dec. 6, 1865, for three-quarters of the state legislatures to ratify it. Well before that, on April 15, 1865, just days after the Confederate surrender at Appomattox, Lincoln was assassinated by Confederate sympathizer John Wilkes Booth.

The amendment Lincoln worked so hard to attain would become law under the new president, Lincoln’s vice-president, Andrew Johnson.

Copies of the 13th Amendment signed by Lincoln, like this one known as the Strohm souvenir copy, were popular with collectors. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

Copies of the 13th Amendment signed by Lincoln, like this one known as the Strohm souvenir copy, were popular with collectors. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

“The U.S. Constitution and the End of American Slavery” runs through April 20, 2015 in the Library’s West Hall.

In recognition of the 150th anniversary of the Civil War, The Huntington has held a number of commemorative events.

In 2012, The Huntington held a Library exhibition, “A Just Cause: Voices of the American Civil War” and a concurrent photography exhibition, “A Strange and Fearful Interest: Death, Mourning, and Memory in the American Civil War.” You can still visit the web component of “A Strange and Fearful Interest,” which includes commentary by historians such as Gary Gallagher, Joan Waugh, and David Blight.

Talks from “Civil War Lives,” a 2011 conference that brought together some of the nation’s most renowned Civil War scholars for a two-day event, can be found on iTunes U. In addition, many lectures exploring themes relating to the Civil War are available in a special page on iTunes U, “Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War.”

Related content on Verso:
“Remembering Gettysburg” (Feb. 19, 2014)
“Where Solomon Northup Was a Slave” (March 3, 2014)
“VIDEO | Voices on the Civil War” (Oct. 12, 2012)
“Capture the Flag” (April 12, 2011)
“Mystic Chords of Memory” (March 4, 2011)
“Many Happy Returns” (Feb. 16, 2011)

Diana W. Thompson is senior writer for the office of communications at The Huntington.

A Satirical Look at Georgian Society

Thomas Rowlandson’s satirical views of Georgian society are among his strongest work, and The Huntington’s collection focuses primarily on this aspect of his oeuvre. Eleven of his works are on view in “Working Women: Images of Female Labor in the Art of Thomas Rowlandson.”

Thomas Rowlandson’s satirical views of Georgian society are among his strongest work, and The Huntington’s collection focuses primarily on this aspect of his oeuvre. Eleven of his works are on view in “Working Women: Images of Female Labor in the Art of Thomas Rowlandson.”

Today’s pop culture often goes overboard by invading personal privacy in the search for entertainment. Britain’s Georgian era (roughly 1714 to 1830) was a similarly nosy time—gossiping and people watching were especially popular pastimes, as were reading biography and looking at portraiture. Thomas Rowlandson (1756–1827), one of Britain’s premier draftsmen, was also an astute social critic who commented on the goings-on of the day through his comic drawings and caricatures.

To get a sense of his style, stop by the Works on Paper room on the second floor of the Huntington Art Gallery. “Working Women: Images of Female Labor in the Art of Thomas Rowlandson” draws from The Huntington’s collection of more than 600 original drawings by the artist. On view are 11 rarely exhibited watercolors, depicting women who were most visible in the public sphere—street vendors, servants, actresses, and prostitutes—with an occasional glance at the foibles of the upper class.

In The Life Class, Rowlandson pokes fun at old men leering at a young, naked model. The one serious artist is also the young and handsome one—could it be Rowlandson? (No date, pen and gray wash, rendered here in black and white.) The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. Gilbert Davis Collection. On view in “Working Women.”

In The Life Class, Rowlandson pokes fun at old men leering at a young, naked model. The one serious artist is also the young and handsome one—could it be Rowlandson? (No date, pen and gray wash, rendered here in black and white.) The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. Gilbert Davis Collection. On view in “Working Women.”

Rowlandson was incredibly observant in the way he showed people’s everyday pitfalls, especially in his frequent depiction of voyeurs. One of the most common objects of his gaze (and that of his subjects) is a pretty young woman. The artist arranges all action around this central figure. Take The Life Class, in which men gather around a nude woman, ostensibly to use her as a model for their painting. Instead of diligently working, however, Rowlandson shows the men leering at the model, clearly more interested in her nakedness than in getting on with their canvases. Rowlandson dramatizes their overtly lascivious gazes with exaggerated expressions. His jest suggests that these would-be artists will be unsuccessful in bringing their lusty plans to fruition.

Thomas Rowlandson, Rowlandson and his Fair Sitters, no date, pen and watercolor, rendered here in black and white. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. Gift of Homer Crotty. On view in “Working Women.”

Thomas Rowlandson, Rowlandson and his Fair Sitters, no date, pen and watercolor, rendered here in black and white. The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. Gift of Homer Crotty. On view in “Working Women.”

In contrast, the only man not depicted in caricature is a young and handsome one, likely Rowlandson himself, as he stares wistfully at the model. If anyone has a chance to interact with the pretty young woman, Rowlandson seems to be saying, it is he—the equally handsome young man. Yet at this moment, all he can do is create art out of her image. Rowlandson intimates that such looking is a diluted experience of the world, one that he and the men he caricatures engage in as a poor substitute for the real thing.

Is Rowlandson saying that art takes the place of a more profound engagement with the world? Maybe not. Regardless of how much Rowlandson makes fun of the old men, we appreciate his artwork for giving us the opportunity to interact with his cast of characters. By recording what he has observed, Rowlandson gives us a unique (if acerbic) view into Georgian life.

In Curiosity Cured, Rowlandson shows little patience for an old woman’s prurience. His suggested cure: a judicious thwack. (No date, pen and watercolor, rendered here in black and white.) The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

In Curiosity Cured, Rowlandson shows little patience for an old woman’s prurience. His suggested cure: a judicious thwack. (No date, pen and watercolor, rendered here in black and white.) The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.

“Working Women: Images of Female Labor in the Art of Thomas Rowlandson” will run through April 13, 2015 in the Works on Paper room, on the second floor of the Huntington Art Gallery.

Mairead Horton served as an intern in the art division at The Huntington. She is currently studying art history at Princeton University.

Morse the Painter?

Gallery of the Louvre (1831–33), oil on canvas, 73 1/2 x 108 in. Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

Gallery of the Louvre (1831–33), oil on canvas, 73 1/2 x 108 in. Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

If asked to recall the accomplishments of Samuel F. B. Morse (1791–1872), most people would cite his role in developing Morse code. Many would be surprised to learn he started his career as a painter.

This weekend, Morse’s extraordinary six-by-nine-foot masterwork, Gallery of the Louvre, goes on view in the Susan and Stephen Chandler Wing of the Virginia Steele Scott Galleries of American Art. Created between 1831 and 1833, the painting reproduces famous works by Van Dyck, Leonardo, Murillo, Poussin, Rembrandt, Rubens, and Titian, arranged in an imagined installation in the Salon Carré at the Musée du Louvre in Paris. All told, the canvas depicts 38 paintings, two sculptures, and numerous figures in a single composition. (For a key to the people and art in the painting, click here.)

In addition to art, Morse depicts artists. The man painting in the lower-left hand corner is artist Richard W. Habersham, Morse’s roommate in Paris. Another artist and roommate, Horatio Greenough, can be seen in the background, holding his top hat as he enters the hall. Detail of Gallery of the Louvre, Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

In addition to art, Morse depicts artists. The man painting in the lower-left hand corner is artist Richard W. Habersham, Morse’s roommate in Paris. Another artist and roommate, Horatio Greenough, can be seen in the background, holding his top hat as he enters the hall. Detail of Gallery of the Louvre, Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

Jessica Todd Smith, The Huntington’s Virginia Steele Scott chief curator of American Art, says that Gallery of the Louvre uniquely captures the work of a great painter who also possessed the talents of a great inventor—a true American Renaissance man.

Morse was born in Charlestown, Mass., in 1791 and attended Yale University (then Yale College), studying science, art, and other subjects. He went on to support himself with portrait painting, first in the U.S. and then in London, where he joined a circle of American artists that included John Singleton Copley, Benjamin West, and John Trumbull.

Morse returned to the U.S. in 1815 and painted a precursor to Gallery of the Louvre, the seven-by-ten foot House of Representatives, for which he had to compile nearly 100 portraits of congressmen, delegates, and other figures.

The young woman seated before her sketch is Morse’s daughter, Susan Walker Morse, with her father, Samuel F. B. Morse, peering over her shoulder. Detail of Gallery of the Louvre, Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

The young woman seated before her sketch is Morse’s daughter, Susan Walker Morse, with her father, Samuel F. B. Morse, peering over her shoulder. Detail of Gallery of the Louvre, Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

It was during a trip to Paris in September 1831 that Morse decided to craft another large-scale painting, this time from the Louvre’s collection.

At the time, Morse was the founding president and professor of painting at the National Academy of Design in New York. His interest in painting Gallery of the Louvre was clearly pedagogical. He hoped to bring back to Americans a teaching canvas depicting what he considered the major works of Europe.

The project required numerous calculations to scale and arrange the works, aided by the use of a camera obscura or similar pre-photographic optical device. Working furiously, Morse raced to finish the painting before the Louvre’s annual closure in August. He then rolled the canvas for travel and did not unroll it again until early 1833, back home on American soil, where he added finishing touches to the painting.

This image of a copyist (a respectable artistic practice at the time) is possibly Morse’s recently deceased wife, Lucretia Pickering Walker. On either side of her, left to right, are Portrait of Suzanne Fourment by Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640, Flemish) and Rest on the Flight into Egypt by Simone Cantarini (1612–1648, Italian). Detail of Gallery of the Louvre, Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

This image of a copyist (a respectable artistic practice at the time) is possibly Morse’s recently deceased wife, Lucretia Pickering Walker. On either side of her, left to right, are Portrait of Suzanne Fourment by Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640, Flemish) and Rest on the Flight into Egypt by Simone Cantarini (1612–1648, Italian). Detail of Gallery of the Louvre, Terra Foundation for American Art, Chicago.

Gallery of the Louvre debuted publicly in Manhattan in the fall of 1833. The painting drew praise from critics and connoisseurs but failed to attract a popular audience.

During this same period, Morse’s work on a single-wire telegraph system and what came to be known as Morse code was gaining increased attention, and he never again returned to painting.

In 2010, the Terra Foundation oversaw a six-month conservation treatment of Gallery of the Louvre—a process documented and described in a video produced by Sandpail Productions. An excerpt will be shown in the exhibition at The Huntington.

The exhibition, “Samuel F. B. Morse’s Gallery of the Louvre and the Art of Invention,” runs Jan. 24–May 4, 2015. It will be augmented by Morse-related historical materials from The Huntington’s library collections, including rare printed materials and unique manuscripts. The installation will include an opportunity for visitors to curate their own virtual gallery with miniature versions of works from The Huntington’s art collections.

The exhibition catalog is available at the Huntington Store.

Thea M. Page is the director of marketing communications at The Huntington.

Al Martinez, Bard of L.A.

Al Martinez at his desk in 2012. (Photo by John Sullivan.)

Al Martinez at his desk in 2012. (Photo by John Sullivan.)

I was born July 21, 1929, the year of the market crash and the start of the Depression. But they weren’t my fault.
—Al Martinez, quoted in “Out of the Shadows,” Tu Ciudad, Dec./Jan. 2006.

It was Martinez’s fault, happily, that for five decades his columns and writings inspired readers to think more deeply about the world around them and see more clearly the common humanity that binds people together. Sadly for all of us who have read his words or been blessed with his friendship, his voice has been stilled, for he passed away last week at the age of 85.

It’s my job, too. Not to investigate, but to weave woes and wonders into the tapestry that will one day be viewed as representative of our time.
—Al Martinez, “The Smell of Murder,” October 4, 1996, in Reflections

As a journalist and columnist, Martinez wrote for the Richmond Independent, the Oakland Tribune, and—for more than 35 years—the Los Angeles Times, where he was one of the paper’s most popular writers. In 2007, the Times let him go as part of its downsizing, only to reinstate him after thousands of his fans vehemently protested. However, 18 months later, the paper let him go again and did not relent. Far from retiring, Martinez began writing regular columns for the Los Angeles Daily News and the Topanga Messenger. He also produced a regular blog for AARP and taught writing seminars.

Al Martinez and his wife, Joanne Martinez, whom he called by her original surname, Cinelli. (Photo by John Sullivan.)

Al Martinez and his wife, Joanne Martinez, whom he called by her original surname, Cinelli. (Photo by John Sullivan.)

[About his wife, Joanne Martinez, pictured with him above] I see a face caressed by time, the way spring deepens into summer. I see a smile that, like a river, changes with the light. I see eyes whose gaze exceeds the horizon.  I see roses I see sunlight.
“How did we manage 50 years of marriage?” I asked.
“By dividing the chores. You write and I do everything else.”
—Al Martinez, “Fifty Years in Orbit,” August 4, 1999, in Reflections

Martinez explored every facet of the human experience, celebrating individuals who shine in the face of overwhelming burdens, condemning bigotry and intolerance, and chuckling at our capacity for folly. Echoing the poet Walt Whitman, Martinez noted: “I sing the people.” His popular columns earned many awards, including three Pulitzer Prizes and the prestigious Headliner Award for the best feature column in the United States. Martinez also published several books, ranging from compilations of columns to a novel, and he earned an Emmy nomination for his television writing.

Sometimes I’m not sure where reality ends and hallucinations begin. That’s why they made me a columnist.
—Al Martinez, “Sweet Bypass Blues,” November 7, 1991, in Reflections

Recognizing Martinez’s timeless, graceful prose and his extraordinary contributions to the fabric of Los Angeles, The Huntington acquired his papers in 2006, and I was fortunate to be able to curate an exhibition in 2012 devoted to him and his career. In planning the show and reading Martinez’s writings, I was struck by their poetic qualities, so the title that seemed to capture him best was “Al Martinez: Bard of L.A.” He truly sang the people as he captured their accomplishments, trials, and foibles. He also wrote of the natural world and the way its beauties and power shape us. He specifically wrote of life in L.A. (or “El Lay, La-La-Land, the Land of Fruits and Nuts, the City of Fallen Angels,” as he referred to it), discovering universal truths in the stories he told of his fellow Angelenos.

It is at once a world of wonder and danger, of thunder and full moons. Humanity remains as unsettled as the air that vibrates in a storm, and as dominating as a moon that rules the night.
—Al Martinez, “A Storm Filled with Promise,” February 11, 2001, in Reflections

Portrait of Al Martinez by John Robertson. (2001)

Portrait of Al Martinez by John Robertson. (2001)

A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog about another writer, Kent Haruf, whose papers I collected for the library, who had become a dear friend, and who was taken from us much too soon. Now, far sooner than I would wish, I am writing another tribute to a person I knew first as a writer and then as a beloved friend. A friend of mine e-mailed me recently that she could imagine Al and Kent somewhere in the ether, sharing martinis (Al’s drink of choice) and comparing stories of their favorite curator. This image makes me smile and makes my two writers seem comfortingly close at hand.

There is a knoll in Topanga State Park, up an oak-shaded back trail, where you can see all the way to the ocean… I know a place now where, when I become too conscious of my own heartbeat, I can consider the rhythms of the ocean instead, and the seasons of the mountains.
That’s more of a confirmation of life than I ever realized before.
—Al Martinez, “High on a Hill,” in Ashes in the Rain

About his craft as a columnist, Al wrote in I’ll Be Damned If I’ll Die in Oakland: “Editors and publishers come and go, typefaces change, formats shift, columns move from here to there. I endure, writing the words and singing the songs, prowling like an old alley cat through the lives of those I father into my paragraphs.” He will no longer prowl through the lives and neighborhoods of Los Angeles, but for me and many others, his friendship will continue to warm our hearts. And, for all of us, his writings will endure to remind us of our humanity.

The dog was a pathetic and possibly psychotic no-breed animal named Barney, with beady, close-set eyes and an arrogant attitude.  He could have been the love child of an unholy union between Richard Nixon and Bebe Rebozo.
—Al Martinez, “Heaven, Hell, and L.A.,” in I’ll Be Damned If I’ll Die in Oakland

Sara S. “Sue” Hodson is curator of literary manuscripts at The Huntington.

George Romney’s Other Side

George Romney (British, 1734-1802), page from Sketchbook, 1796 [?], graphite, ink and wash. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in "Eccentric Visions: Drawings by Henry Fuseli, William Blake, and Their Contemporaries" through March 16, 2015.

George Romney (British, 1734-1802), page from Sketchbook, 1796 [?], graphite, ink and wash. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in “Eccentric Visions: Drawings by Henry Fuseli, William Blake, and Their Contemporaries” through March 16, 2015.

A monstrous frog-like creature nibbling at the breast of a corpse; a claustrophobic encounter between two women who embrace under the eyes of a shadowy watcher; a raving sorceress surging forward, bent on destruction—believe it or not, these disturbing images come from the mind of George Romney, the British painter best known at The Huntington for his dazzling portraits of glamorous ladies and gentlemen that hang throughout the Huntington Art Gallery. Along with Thomas Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds, Romney vied for the title of Britain’s most fashionable portrait painter in the 1770s and 80s. As they built their own great collection of British art, Henry and Arabella Huntington bought a dozen of Romney’s portraits—from life-size images of stylish brides like Penelope Lee Acton to intimate peeks at the alluring charms of the notorious Emma, Lady Hamilton. Romney’s paintings helped codify what it meant to be beautiful, rich, and aristocratic in late 18th-century Britain.

George Romney, Cimon and Iphigenia, early 1780s, pen and ink and brown wash over graphite [rendered here in black and white]. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens, Sir Bruce Ingram Collection. On view in "Eccentric Visions."

George Romney, Cimon and Iphigenia, early 1780s, pen and ink and brown wash over graphite [rendered here in black and white]. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens, Sir Bruce Ingram Collection. On view in “Eccentric Visions.”

Another, darker side of Romney’s imagination is currently on display in “Eccentric Visions: Drawings by Henry Fuseli, William Blake, and Their Contemporaries” (Huntington Art Gallery, through March 16, 2015). The late 18th-century is usually characterized as the Neoclassical era, a time when artists took inspiration from the composed sculpture and ordered architecture of ancient Greece and Rome. However, as the drawings in this exhibition reveal, a fascination with the extreme, the fantastic, and the supernatural existed right alongside the regularity and rationality of Neoclassicism. It’s not so surprising, considering this is the age that saw the rise of the Gothic novel, in whose thrilling pages the ghostly harbingers of evil and dastardly monks terrorized countless helpless maidens. Like their literary counterparts, many artists catered to this taste for things eerie, intense, or unexplained.

George Romney, Study of a Striding Female Figure, perhaps Emma Hart as Circe, early 1780s, pen and ink and brown and blue wash over graphite [rendered here in black and white]. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in "Eccentric Visions."

George Romney, Study of a Striding Female Figure, perhaps Emma Hart as Circe, early 1780s, pen and ink and brown and blue wash over graphite [rendered here in black and white]. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in “Eccentric Visions.”

This side of Romney’s art is most visible in his drawings. Romney was a great draftsman who thought of drawing as a vehicle for expression rather than simply as a preparation for his paintings. His pen and wash drawing of Cimon and Iphigenia, inspired by a tale in Boccacio’s Decameron, shows a male figure, barely visible in profile, gazing at the object of his affections. The artist heightens the emotional force of the encounter, a scene of blossoming love that is also an unsettling act of voyeurism, by compressing the image into a small space and pushing the figures up close to the viewer. His drawing of a woman raising a wand high above her head is possibly a study for a painting of Emma Hamilton as Circe, the sorceress from Homer’s Odyssey who turned Odysseus’ crew into swine. With her wide staring eyes and powerful gestures, she is a vision of dangerous femininity.

George Romney, Penelope Lee Acton, 1791, oil on canvas. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in the Huntington Art Gallery.

George Romney, Penelope Lee Acton, 1791, oil on canvas. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in the Huntington Art Gallery.

Like these individual drawings, Romney’s sketchbook of around 1796 is filled with expressive imagery. However, these are not pictures made to appeal to the readers of the latest Gothic novel. Many of the drawings in this book go beyond the psychological intensity of his literary subjects, like Cimon and Iphigenia and Circe, to reveal the private thoughts, fears, and desires of a mind in turmoil. Despite his popularity, Romney was by nature a shy and secretive person. By the mid-1790s, he increasingly suffered from bouts of depression and paranoia, while a series of small strokes made working difficult. Art historians have read this extraordinary sketchbook as evidence of the deteriorating physical and emotional state of the artist. In 1799, Romney left London for good and retired to the village of Kendal in Cumbria, England, bringing to an end one of the most brilliant careers in British art.

George Romney, Emma Hart, later Lady Hamilton, in a Straw Hat, c. 1782-94, oil on canvas. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in the Huntington Art Gallery.

George Romney, Emma Hart, later Lady Hamilton, in a Straw Hat, c. 1782-94, oil on canvas. Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens. On view in the Huntington Art Gallery.

Related content on Verso:
“Which Witch?” (Oct. 10, 2014)
“A Magic Brew?” (Oct. 31, 2014)
“More Than Meets the Eye” (Dec. 16, 2014)

Melinda McCurdy is associate curator for British art at The Huntington.

Organizing an Encyclopedia, Chinese Style

Huntington archivist Li Wei Yang (left) and Duncan Campbell show the new discovery to a group of journalists.

Huntington archivist Li Wei Yang (left) and Duncan Campbell show the new discovery to a group of journalists.

Even by the standards of the day, the task the 15th-century Yongle emperor in China gave to his scholars was unreasonable: compile and organize a book containing all the knowledge of the world, and make sure the information was easy to access. Remarkably, they succeeded in the mission, producing the Yongle Encyclopedia (1408), a compendium of writings from ancient times through the early Ming dynasty (1368–1644). At the time, it was the largest book ever produced in China—or anywhere else—consisting of more than 11,000 volumes.

The Huntington recently discovered that it owns a single, bound volume of the massive work, comprising sections 10,270 and 10,271. It is from a 1562 handwritten copy of the original, commissioned by the Yongle emperor of the Ming Dynasty in 1403. The Yongle Encyclopedia (in Chinese, Yongle dadian, a title perhaps better translated as “compendium” rather than “encyclopedia”) assembled Chinese writings from a wide range of fields, including art, astronomy, Buddhism, geography, medicine, drama, and technology. It included text from 5,500 titles involving the collaboration of more than 2,000 scholars. They assembled the information into 22,877 sections, bound into 11,095 volumes, 10 to a box. Our volume had been unidentified since it came here in 1968, a donation from the daughter of a missionary to China, Joseph Whiting. Last August, project archivist Li Wei Yang examined the manuscript and tentatively identified it as part of the renowned encyclopedia, a hunch he later confirmed with the scholar Liu Bo of the National Library of China.

The Huntington’s volume contains a section from the Confucian Book of Rites explaining how to properly educate a prince. Missionary Joseph Whiting included a handwritten note translating part of this page. It read: “Rites and Music are the essentials in teaching the Heir Apparent. Music to cultivate the inner man, rites (or rules of propriety) to polish the external conduct."

The Huntington’s volume contains a section from the Confucian Book of Rites explaining how to properly educate a prince. Missionary Joseph Whiting included a handwritten note translating part of this page. It read: “Rites and Music are the essentials in teaching the Heir Apparent. Music to cultivate the inner man, rites (or rules of propriety) to polish the external conduct.”

To modern readers, one of the most fascinating elements about this work is the method used to organize such a gargantuan quantity of text—the rhyming categories of the Chinese language. In a classical Chinese world, arranging the book in this manner made perfect sense.

Chinese is not alphabetic. The order of the entries followed a rhyming dictionary, the Hongwu zhengyun, authorized by the Yongle emperor’s father in 1375. The dictionary divided the monosyllabic sounds of the Chinese characters into 76 rhyming categories, distributed among the four tones of the spoken language. Every educated Chinese person knew the categories and their sequence by heart. Rhyme was an exceptionally effective search engine.

For instance, our volume contains the partial text of a chapter from the Book of Rites (Li ji), one of five books constituting the revered Confucian Canon. This particular section, entitled “King Wen as Son and Heir” (Wen wang shizi), deals with how to educate a prince who was both son to the ruling emperor and heir apparent. This created complications in terms of etiquette and ritual because the son, by virtue of his relationship with his father, would also become the Son of Heaven. The last character of the title means “son” and is pronounced “zi.” Anyone looking for information on the topic of “son” would immediately go to the second of the rhyming categories in the rising tone, under the category headword meaning “paper,” pronounced “zhi,” a sound with which it rhymed. The logic of this arrangement was crystal clear to Chinese thinkers in a traditional world. In their circles, the ability to write a good poem and effective prose was vital, and rhyme was critical to both.

The diagram on this page, the only one in The Huntington’s volume, is meant to illustrate to the prince the appropriate ceremony used when establishing a school.

The diagram on this page, the only one in The Huntington’s volume, is meant to illustrate to the prince the appropriate ceremony used when establishing a school.

Though the title of the reign of the Yongle emperor (1360–1424; reign from 1402–24) who ordered the work meant Perpetual Joy, he proved a particularly brutal emperor in an already brutal age. His interest in the encyclopedia, however, was clear in the preface he wrote for it, in which he expressed a certain pride for how clearly it was organized. Consider my English translation:

The product of the labor of this exhaustive process of compilation is a book that can satisfy all possible inquiries, such that searching for a word by means of its rhyme and examining affairs by means of this word, any reader can trace the trajectory of something from beginning to end, as easily as shooting a swan with one’s bow. Nothing will remain hidden once you open up the pages of this book.

The encyclopedia was never printed. Luckily, a handwritten copy was produced in 1562, from which The Huntington’s volume originates. By the end of the Ming dynasty, the original copy had been lost. About 400 volumes remain of the 16th century copy, the majority of which are held in the National Library of China.

The encyclopedia was never printed. Luckily, a handwritten copy was produced in 1562, from which The Huntington’s volume originates. By the end of the Ming dynasty, the original copy had been lost. About 400 volumes remain of the 16th century copy, the majority of which are held in the National Library of China.

Wondering just how easy it might be to “shoot a swan with one’s bow”? Or simply curious to learn more about this recently discovered treasure? Come take a look at several pages from our volume, on view until March 16, 2015, in the East Foyer of the Library Main Hall. You can also view it through the Huntington Digital Library. And tonight, Jan. 8, I will be joined by Li Wei Yang, who was recently named curator for Western history, to give a joint lecture titled “The Yongle Dadian: An Emperor’s Encyclopedia.” The free event will be held at 7:30 p.m. in the Ahmanson Room of the Brody Botanical Center. No reservations required.

Duncan Campbell is The Huntington’s June and Simon K.C. Li Director of the Center for East Asian Garden Studies and Curator of the Chinese Garden.

The Year in Review

A collage of 2014 Verso posts.

A collage of 2014 Verso posts.

Before we say goodbye to 2014, we invite you to enjoy a dozen highlights selected from the year’s Verso posts. Take a peek behind the scenes at The Huntington and meet some of the staff members and volunteers who help make it a special place. Visit some of our spectacular events and exhibitions, and learn about education programs that are introducing younger generations to The Huntington. And delve into some of the lesser-known details about our vast library, art, and botanical collections. In chronological order, here are some of our favorites.

  • We celebrated the 138th birthday of author Jack London back in January, showcasing a range of objects from The Huntington’s 50,000-item archive, which includes the charred manuscript of his novel Sea-Wolf, a victim of fire in the aftermath of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. Read “To Build a Fire.”
  • In February, we introduced you to volunteer docent Sandra Mader—a retired high school teacher, librarian, and education administrator—who leads school tours through the Chinese Garden, the Garden of Flowing Fragrance. She invites students to open their minds to their experience by composing couplets that evoke the garden’s calm joy. Read “Coaxing Beauty.”
  • When the film 12 Years a Slave won the Academy Award for Best Picture in March, we shared with you excerpts from the diaries and letters of John Burrud, an officer in the 160th Regiment of the New York Infantry during the U.S. Civil War. Burrud documented his experiences in 1863 near the Louisiana plantation where Solomon Northrup, a freeborn African American and author of the 1853 book Twelve Years a Slave, endured hard labor and torture. Read “Where Solomon Northup Was a Slave.”
At the lower left of this opening to John Burrud’s diary is a passage that reads, “Came across an Old Slave. He said he was well acquainted with Solomon Northup.” Read more in "Where Solomon Northup Was a Slave."

At the lower left of this opening to John Burrud’s diary is a passage that reads, “Came across an Old Slave. He said he was well acquainted with Solomon Northup.” Read more in “Where Solomon Northup Was a Slave.”

  • We applauded the announcement in April that historian Alan Taylor had won his second Pulitzer Prize in History for The Internal Enemy: Slavery and War in Virginia, 1772–1832. Taylor completed the book’s manuscript while in residence at The Huntington as the first Robert C. Ritchie Distinguished Fellow in Early American History. Read “Alan Taylor Wins Second Pulitzer Prize.”
  • In May, you got a peek into the inner workings of The Huntington’s conservation lab, where conservators hone and wield an array of sharp knives to repair aging books. Read “Knife to the Grindstone.”
  • In 2013, Mary Robertson retired as the William A. Moffett Curator of British Historical Manuscripts. For decades, she made The Huntington’s important holdings of British history discoverable and accessible to generations of scholars around the world. In May, we shared a tribute to Robertson by Steve Hindle, The Huntington’s W. M. Keck Foundation Director of Research. Read “Smoothing the Path.”
  • To mark the 50th anniversary of a 1964 commemorative stamp of President John F. Kennedy, we posted the story of how The Huntington acquired a photograph taken in 1958 of then-Senator Kennedy—whose wife, Jacqueline, chose the photo as the basis for his image on the stamp. Read “Something Waited For.”
A commemorative JFK stamp issued on May 29, 1964, was based on a 1958 photograph taken in Santa Monica by William S. Murphy of the Los Angeles Times. Read more in "Something Waited For."

A commemorative JFK stamp issued on May 29, 1964, was based on a 1958 photograph taken in Santa Monica by William S. Murphy of the Los Angeles Times. Read more in “Something Waited For.”

  • In July, we told you about The Huntington’s partnership with Eliot Middle School, a visual and performing arts magnet school in the Pasadena Unified School District. It’s one of our four partner schools, and the first middle school. Teachers, students, and their families benefit from the partnership, which helps students integrate what they learn in the classroom into what they encounter in The Huntington’s extraordinary collections. Read “Making It Real.”
  • Each year, nearly 200 professors and graduate students receive funding to conduct research at The Huntington through fellowships ranging from one month to a full year in residence. The grants total $1.7 million, with about 30 percent of awards going to scholars from outside of the United States. The recipients for 2014–15 are listed here and include scholars who specialize in literature, the history of science, and the American Civil War, among other fields. In August, we showed you these grantees busily at work in the Ahmanson Reading Room of the Munger Research Center. Read “The Library Tomorrow.”
  • Who could forget the fragrance, or rather odor, of the imposing Corpse Flower? We couldn’t let you sniff it via Verso, but in September, we provided you with dazzling photo-documentation and a time-lapse video of its blooming, as well as a reflection on why we feel compelled to capture such events so minutely and variously in our digital age. Read “Picturing a Bloom.”
There were cameras, cameras everywhere for the big Amorphophallus titanum bloom. Read more in "Picturing a Bloom."

There were cameras, cameras everywhere for the big Amorphophallus titanum bloom. Read more in “Picturing a Bloom.”

  • In October, we told you that acclaimed portrait artist Don Bachardy was visiting Berlin to commemorate a slew of anniversaries celebrating the life and novels of his longtime partner, Christopher Isherwood. The Huntington holds a vast archive of materials by Isherwood, the author of A Single Man and Goodbye to Berlin (the latter the basis for the musical Cabaret). The collection includes several drafts of A Single Man, as well as letters from W. H. Auden, Truman Capote, and E. M. Forster. The Huntington acquired the material from Bachardy in 1999 along with 50 of his own works—drawings and paintings depicting the couple’s friends from literary and cinematic circles, including Julie Harris, Aldous Huxley, Anaïs Nin, and Dorothy Parker. Read “Two Singular Men, One Berlin.”

Thank you for reading us all year round. We look forward to sharing many more indelible stories with you in 2015.

Kevin Durkin is managing editor for the office of communications at The Huntington.

Let It Snow

The Huntington grounds south of the Library after snowfall. (Jan. 11, 1949)

The Huntington grounds south of the Library after snowfall. (Jan. 11, 1949)

To get in the mood for the winter holiday season, take a gander at The Huntington’s snows of yesteryear (1932, 1948, and 1949) as captured in a remarkable collection of photographs available through our digital library.

According to the Los Angles Times, the largest snowstorm to hit Southern California in the 20th century started on Jan. 10, 1949, and lasted for three days. Flakes dusted rooftops and lawns along the coast, a foot of snow trapped a score of cars in Laurel Canyon, and cross-country skiers schussed their way down Altadena’s Christmas Tree Lane. Frosty winds spread icy conditions across major highways, resulting in the jingling of tire chains and several closures.

Pasadena and its environs took on a mantle of white. The Rose Bowl looked like “a dishpan full of milk,” according to one observer, and children threw snowballs at cars and each other. As photographs attest, the storm transmuted the grounds of The Huntington into a winter playground, luring dapperly dressed staff members outdoors to shape huge snowballs and build snowmen.

Employee Carey Bliss stands on a large ball of snow while colleagues Graydon Spalding and John Moslander hold smaller snowballs in their hands. (Jan. 11, 1949)

Employee Carey Bliss stands on a large ball of snow while colleagues Graydon Spalding and John Moslander hold smaller snowballs in their hands. (Jan. 11, 1949)

But the impact of the unusually cold weather was not all fun and games. Nighttime temperatures plummeted into the 20s, destroying citrus crops in the San Fernando Valley and inflicting serious damage on The Huntington’s botanical gardens. The Huntington Library’s 22nd annual report, published in 1949, describes the harsh weather’s destructive effects:

One of the purposes of the Botanical Gardens is to discover which sub-tropical plants will grow out of doors in Southern California. The past winter provided the severest test such plants have had to endure. The results are interesting but disturbing. Among the complete losses were the citrus and avocado crops, 350 cacti or succulents, over 200 other plants, and some entire blocks of planting, such as Ficus, Acacia, Eucalyptus. Much damage was done to flower buds, leaves, branches, stalks and canes, so the growth was retarded. That 10 to 12 truck-loads of debris were carted away daily during the cleaning up in the spring shows the extent of the damage.

Employees Dorothy Bowen (standing), unidentified woman, Graydon Spalding, and Irwin Morrkish pose with a snowman. (Jan. 11, 1949)

Employees Dorothy Bowen (standing), unidentified woman, Graydon Spalding, and Irwin Morrkish pose with a snowman. (Jan. 11, 1949)

A later annual report mentioned that a snowstorm in 1948 had brought about the demise of The Huntington’s wooden lath house—the first building constructed on the grounds to display semi-tropical plants—as well as its rebirth in a different guise:

The snowstorm of 1948 demonstrated how fragile the lath house had become and, being beyond repair, it was replaced by a new structure of aluminum. This is already filled to capacity with new plants developed in the propagating department.

Snapshot of the Japanese garden covered in snow. (Jan. 15, 1932)

Snapshot of the Japanese garden covered in snow. (Jan. 15, 1932)

Back on Jan. 16, 1932, the Los Angeles Times reported that a gentler snowstorm had annoyed Albert Einstein and his wife Elsa during a return visit to Pasadena, where Albert spent time discussing cosmology with his peers at Caltech. Elsa complained to a reporter that they had left Germany for sunshine and had plenty of snow back home.

The 1932 snowstorm blanketed the wisteria pergola, moon bridge, and teahouse in The Huntington’s Japanese Garden, as well as the lawns behind the Library and alongside the Huntington residence, which today is the Huntington Art Gallery. The sight of a bearded palm tree towering above footprints in the snow reminds us that The Huntington can become a place of astonishing incongruities when the weather conditions are just right.

Snapshot of the west façade of the Huntington residence and the south terrace after a rare southern California snowfall. (Jan. 15, 1932)

Snapshot of the west façade of the Huntington residence and the south terrace after a rare southern California snowfall. (Jan. 15, 1932)

Kevin Durkin is managing editor for the office of communications at The Huntington.

How the Christmas Birds Got Their Tweet

For the second year in a row, The Huntington has brought in an outside designer to make its holiday tree come alive. This year, it's artist Konstantin Kakanias.

For the second year in a row, The Huntington has brought in an outside designer to make its holiday tree come alive. This year, it’s artist Konstantin Kakanias.

The Huntington Art Gallery has a cool holiday tree again. Last year, a cacophony of colorful piñatas covered the noble fir, a concept developed by designer David Netto. This year, artist Konstantin Kakanias conceived of a tree adorned with whimsical birds whose cartoon speech bubbles silently declared “love,” “freedom,”  “harmony,” and “I adore you.”

But they were silent only in the concept stage. Then serendipity took over the creative process.

“We were here late one night, trying to finish the tree, and we were getting a little punchy,” admitted Catherine Hess, chief curator of European art. “And Konstantin said something like, wouldn’t it be great if you could hear little birds twittering when you were near it?”

Just then, from behind a ladder, came a magical sound. “It was perfect! Suddenly, there was this joyous, high, clear birdsong surrounding us!”

A glittery bird tweets to passersby.

A glittery bird tweets to passersby.

Turns out the sound was a unique and astonishingly lifelike bird call that security officer Rachel Yates is able to make. Hess quickly rustled up the staff necessary to record and amplify the sound, and . . . voila! The annual designer tree was complete.

The tree’s creator, Konstantin Kakanias, is a painter and multimedia artist who lives in Los Angeles. His work is often whimsical, as with the tree. He contributes drawings to the New York Times and has worked for Vanity Fair and Vogue, as well as for Yves Saint Laurent and Tiffany. But he’s not too haute couture to work with construction paper and glitter. And he got some help. To cut and decorate the 200 little birds on the tree, Konstantin enlisted students from Art Division, a nonprofit based in the Rampart area of L.A. that’s dedicated to training and supporting underserved Los Angeles youth studying visual arts.

Kevin Salatino, director of the art collections, praises their work. “We wanted to instill the Huntington mansion—which can sometimes seem a very serious place—with a little bit of whimsy and good cheer for the holidays. I think Konstantin and his talented team have brilliantly accomplished exactly that.”

Whimsical birds bring some cheer to the Huntington Art Gallery.

Whimsical birds bring some cheer to the Huntington Art Gallery.

To view a couple of animated GIFs of the holiday tree, head to our Tumblr.

Thea M. Page is the director of marketing communications at The Huntington.

A Fond Farewell

Jennifer Allan Goldman has been the institutional archivist at The Huntington for the last eight years.

Jennifer Allan Goldman has been the institutional archivist at The Huntington for the last eight years.

Today is my last day as institutional archivist and curator of manuscripts at The Huntington. Just over eight years ago, I came here to be the first person to hold the official title of “institutional archivist.” Though various curators before me were responsible for the records of The Huntington’s various departments, I was the first person to have the title on my business card. I experienced a pretty steep learning curve—some of the volunteer docents at The Huntington had been studying and sharing the history of the institution before I was born. But through their knowledge, the amazing collections, and my fellow staff members, I quickly got up to speed.

One of my favorite things to do is test some of the myths that have floated around The Huntington for decades. Though this sometimes means disproving some favorite stories, having documentary evidence to support our claims makes us a better place and allows for a deeper understanding of our history and the lives of the men and women involved. In my first year here, a docent asked about Arabella Huntington’s receiving a speeding ticket outside of Paris, France—a story mentioned in a Smithsonian magazine article. I took it as a personal challenge to prove or disprove this story.

I went to the Pasadena Public Library to find a copy of the article, but the author did not cite a source. I chalked it up to another Arabella myth (there are many) and moved on to other research questions. Nearly a year later, a researcher going through the Henry E. Huntington Collection mentioned a letter from Henry’s daughter Marian, dated 1901, in which she writes: “Aunt Belle and Archer [her son] have developed quite a craze for automobiling, and have both been arrested for going over time.” Questions such as these would often come up, only to be answered months later by another person looking for something unrelated. Unexpected discoveries of this sort were like little surprise presents.

A 1901 letter from Marian Huntington to her father, Henry E. Huntington, in which she mentions that Henry’s wife, Arabella, and Arabella's son, Archer, have received speeding tickets while driving outside of Paris, France.

A 1901 letter from Marian Huntington to her father, Henry E. Huntington, in which she mentions that Henry’s wife, Arabella, and Arabella’s son, Archer, have received speeding tickets while driving outside of Paris, France.

There are still a few myths that will remain with us: Henry’s buying and building the Japanese Garden to woo Arabella; Henry’s asking Myron Hunt to move the site of his new house to accommodate a large English oak, which is supposedly the reason why the house and the North Vista are not perfectly perpendicular. I was never able to find concrete evidence to prove or disprove these legends, and they are such amusing stories that they pass easily between staff, docents, and visitors. I leave these myths for others to confirm or dispel.

Another favorite part of the job has been connecting researchers and visitors with the collections: hearing Sam Watters talk about how the drawings of Henry Huntington’s proposed house done by E. S. Cobb compare to the drawings by Myron Hunt, and how both connect to houses of the day; seeing visitors connect to the photographs and letters in the exhibition “Cultivating California: Founding Families of the San Marino Ranch,” especially some fourth graders who were very interested in General George Patton’s report cards; receiving e-mails from scholars complimenting our finding aids, which led them to exactly the item they were hoping to find. Seeing these connections happen confirmed that my work was furthering research and expanding the ability of people to understand the world around them, which is why I first went into the information profession.

While creating the permanent installation “Remarkable Works, Remarkable Times,” the curators and Library staff were asked to name their favorite item in the Library collections. I have two rather disparate favorites: our amazing miniature book collection and the box of material in the Los Angeles Times Records related to the birth and growth of the National Football League’s Pro Bowl.

Miniature Shakespeare books in a six-inch-high, rotatable bookcase.

Miniature Shakespeare books in a six-inch-high, rotatable bookcase.

As the owner of a few mini books, I appreciate how much information can be contained in books that fit in your hand. My tiny Webster’s is abridged—but not as much as you would think. The craftsmanship that goes into creating a book half the size of my iPhone is astonishing, especially when you realize that some of the earliest mini books were printed without the aid of a computer or other machinery. Plus who can resist the complete works of Shakespeare in a six-inch-high, rotatable bookcase?

The Pro Bowl material is just so anachronistic to most people’s image of The Huntington. It includes early correspondence between NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle and the Pro Bowl’s co-director Glenn Davis, as well as an early TV contract for the game and player contracts stipulating exactly how much each man received for food each day. This box contains the first twinklings of the NFL as we know it and includes requests by star players for special helmets and cleats and enormous (for the time) television revenue. As a lifelong football fan, I considered the day I found this box a red-letter day, and I may have spent a little too much time reading the folders while I cataloged.

Though I am off to new pursuits, The Huntington holds such an important place in my heart. I look forward to returning—as a Member—for the opening of the Steven S. Koblik Education and Visitor Center and spending time appreciating our collections from the other side of the desk.

Box of material in the Los Angeles Times Records related to the birth and growth of the National Football League’s Pro Bowl.

Box of material in the Los Angeles Times Records related to the birth and growth of the National Football League’s Pro Bowl.

Today is Jennifer Allan Goldman’s last day as institutional archivist and curator of manuscripts at The Huntington.