By Matthew Wittmann, Curator of the Harvard Theatre Collection
Harry Hawk, Our American cousin collage, ca. 1865-1894. MS Thr 888. Houghton Library, Harvard University
Rather unfortunately, an evening performance of Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre on April 14, 1865 is perhaps the most remarked upon theatrical event in American history. Harry Hawk, who played the “cousin” character Asa Trenchard, delivered this risible line in Act II: “Don’t know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal — you sockdologizing old man-trap.” John Wilkes Booth ostensibly hoped that the ensuing laughter would cover the sound of his gun, and shot the President as he enjoyed a hearty laugh at the scene. Lincoln slumped forward as Booth jumped onstage and made a dramatic escape from the theatre. Although he survived the night, the wound was mortal and Lincoln passed away a little after seven the following morning. In the wake of the President’s shocking death, the public evinced a strong desire for mementos and playbills for the infamous performance proved to be one particularly valued keepsake. Years later and in a similar spirit, Harry Hawk assembled a montage of photographs and documents memorializing the tragic evening.
By Peter X. Accardo, Scholarly and Public Programs Librarian
As part of our observance of African American history month, Houghton Library has taken an opportunity to research and reflect on the life and work of the library’s first African American colleague, Harold M. Terrell, Jr. At a time when the Harvard College Library employed very few African Americans, Harold was a notable exception in a career that spanned six decades. This post is intended to honor him and to highlight the lasting contributions he made to the library.
Harold was born in Boston on 20 June 1929, the youngest son of Harold and Mary (Forbes) Terrell. His father had moved in 1920 from North Carolina to Boston, where he held several jobs through the Great Depression and the Second World War; his mother raised their three children at home. Young Harold attended public schools, graduating from Roxbury Memorial High School in 1947. Two years later he joined the staff of Houghton Library as an assistant in the library’s reading room; a photograph of reading room staff taken in the early 1950s shows Harold as a young man, sporting the fine pencil mustache he wore his entire life.
Harold Terrell (far right) in the Houghton Library Reading Room with other staff members. Undated photograph. Houghton Library, Harvard University.
By Monique Lassere, Digital Archivist, Houghton Library
Hi, everyone. My name is Monique and I am Houghton Library’s new Digital Archivist! I started working at Houghton in May 2020. My job sits within the Manuscript Section and revolves around the born-digital collections Houghton acquires in the form of media like hard drives and floppy disks, or networked content, like websites. While I haven’t yet visited Houghton’s physical space due to the pandemic, there’s been no shortage of work to dive into while working remotely.
Over the last few months, I have spent much of my time digging into the born-digital archival materials we have on cloud storage. I’m able to do this because of the previous work conducted by Accessioning Archivist, Melanie Wisner, and past Administrative Fellow and Project Archivist, Magee Lawhorn, to get born-digital work off the ground at Houghton. Before I arrived, Melanie and Magee captured files from born-digital removable media, like the 3.5” floppy disks in the John Updike, John Ashbery, and Jerry Schatzberg papers, respectively. As a result, I can begin to work with the digital files we have on cloud storage to determine how we can best provide access for researchers to these materials.
By Madeleine Klebanoff O’Brien
Last summer I conducted independent research at Houghton Library through Harvard’s remote Summer Humanities and Arts Research Program undergraduate fellowship. Inspired by Houghton’s collections, I created an allegorical map of Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy.
The Comedy follows Dante through Hell, Purgatory and Heaven. It is a cosmography, a “total vision” of the cosmos. While most Comedy illustrations are episodic or focused on infernal topography, my map spans the entirety of Dante’s cosmos. It embodies a “total vision.”
The ultimate “total vision” is the beatific vision, in which Dante sees “by love in a single volume bound, / the pages scattered throughout the universe” (Alighieri, Dante. Paradiso. Translated by Robert and Jean Hollander, Anchor, 2007. XXXIII, 86-87). My map binds, in a “single volume,” the pages of the Comedy. It promises us a glimmer of Dante’s beatitude.
By Emily Walhout, Reference Assistant, Public Services and
Christine Jacobson, Assistant Curator of Modern Books and Manuscripts
Around this time of year, Team Cake’s thoughts turn toward fruitcake. Emily Dickinson’s “black cake” to be precise—a 20-pound cake darkened by molasses and boasting 8 pounds of combined raisins, currants, and citron. The original manuscript of the recipe for this hefty cake, written in Miss Dickinson’s own hand, is housed in Houghton Library’s Emily Dickinson Collection.
Now, fruitcake is not a word that generally elicits delight or happy memories. A more common reaction might be skepticism or even a gasp of alarm. But Emily Dickinson’s black cake is not your average fruitcake. Along with the molasses and brandy, an assortment of aromatic spices goes a long way in giving this cake its memorable flavor.
For the past five years, Team Cake—a troupe of brave and curious bakers at Houghton—has recreated this cake, rigorously adhering to the poet’s recipe, and served it up to colleagues and friends at celebration of the poet’s birthday on December 10. Fruitcakes are traditionally steeped in brandy and stored away for months to mature and ripen, so September is the time to get a cake underway if it’s to be shared in December.