pastispresent.org
an online forum for early American discovery, discussion, and diversion from the American Antiquarian Society

March 9, 1870 Wednesday, In the Life of a Blacksmith: Blacksmithing again.  On our big wagon.  I drilled and bolted the wheels today.  In the eve I read [C-- C--] and then wrote a letter to Simon.

Cataloger Uncovers Scandal: “It was Unrequited Love”

March 3rd, 2010, by Christine Graham-Ward

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Like the other catalogers here at AAS, part of my job as the Graphic Arts cataloger is to figure out the artists, sitters, publishers and others who contributed to the works in the collection. So when I catalogued a large color lithograph view of Portland, Oregon from 1891, I noticed that the copyright holders were not listed in our catalog. And although I usually check the Library of Congress’s authority file to see if the firm is established, I went right to Google. When I found nothing solid there, I went to the newspapers. For the record, they are already established at LC, but it did prove an interesting distraction from cataloging. And it turns out the lithograph had a Worcester connection.

The Map of Portland, Oregon

The Map of Portland, Oregon

The view of Portland was copyrighted by the firm of Clohessy & Stengele (i.e. Strengele). So I checked the names America’s Historical Newspapers database (a wonderful research tool containing full-text searchable, digital versions of many of the newspapers at AAS). I searched for Stengele and Clohessy in any paper and any publishing date. The first result that came up was from the September 17, 1894 issue of the Morning Olympian. The headline read:

Portland’s tragedy. A murder and suicide of prominent people. It was unrequited love. A civil engineer shoots a woman.

John W. Strengele was a thirty-something well known civil engineer from a wealthy family in Chicago, who had moved to Portland about 1889. He had been dating a woman, Mrs. Mabel Colvin of Worcester. Yes, Mrs. Pretty scandalous I thought. According to the first news report on September 17th, 1894, Mr. Strengele and Mrs. Colvin had been dating for some time and had decided to be married, once she obtained a divorce from her husband in Worcester. Even more insight into this tragedy was given in the reprint of Strengele’s suicide note addressed to his business parter:

Portland Hotel, September 16, 1894. My dear Clohessy: Could anyone overlook the fact that I am mad? I have done a lot of worrying, and you can now see why I am not well and why I do not eat and sleep as I used to. You know we were to be married as soon as Mabel got her divorce, and you know of our intimacy for the past year or more. I found to my sorrow after watching her that I was not the only man in the case. We had a row once before, but then I was not as positive as now, and we made up. You have proved the only friend I have ever had. I hope you will never make such a d— f— of yourself as I have made of myself. I cannot stand life any longer, although I have been fairly successful all along. There is enough money in my pocket to pay for burial, etc. I am not particular how I am put away. Mabel is the only woman I really love. I cannot live without her, and if you knew how I have been treated of late you would not blame me.

It is almost impossible for me to write I am so nervous. I realize what I am about to do perfectly, and I cannot for the life of me check myself. This desire to kill her and then myself came over me a few days ago. I cannot live any longer. Best wishes. Jack.

According to more newspaper reports from Portland and Worcester, Mabel Forehand Colvin was the daughter of Sullivan Colvin, owner of the Forehand Arms Company in Worcester. Mabel had married another prominent Worcesterite, Mr. C. Henry Colvin, a bookkeeper at the Colvin Iron Foundry, sometime around 1885. According to some reports, Mabel was an alcoholic and moved to Portland about 1892 to flee her unhappy marriage. Other reports stated that Mr. Colvin was at fault and had verbally abused and abandoned his wife. She left and moved in with her cousins, the Jewetts, on Yamhill Street in Portland. Her brother Charles also lived in Portland. Soon after, Mabel met and fell for John Strengele, a prominent civil engineer. They later became engaged and Mabel had filed for divorce just days before her death. In some reports, and in the suicide note, it seemed Mabel had cooled on the relationship and was seen with other men, which obviously upset Strengele. The account in Worcester’s Daily Spy of September 18, gives the gruesome account of exactly what happened on Sunday, September 16, 1894:

Detail of the area where the murder occurred

Detail of the area where the murder occurred

Sunday Mrs. Colvin attended church as usual and taught her class at the Unitarian Church. After Sunday school she took a walk with her brother, Chas. E. Forehand, who recently went to Oregon. After enjoying an hour’s pleasant chat with her brother, Mrs. Colvin boarded a streetcar to go to her home at 472 Yamhill Street [near Thirteenth Street], where she lived with her cousin, C.F. Jewett. From the car to Mr. Jewett’s house, the distance is not above 200 feet, and, after alighting from the car the unfortunate woman started to walk toward the home she was never destined to reach.

Stanegels [sic] was lying in wait for his victim. He rushed to her side, caught her by the arm and spoke excitedly and hurriedly. A man who stood on the opposite side of the street saw Stanegels and heard the excited tones of his voice but could not distinguish his words. Mrs. Colvin exclaimed sharply ‘Let go of me. I do not care to be molested by you; I will not go with you.’

These were the last words she ever uttered, for Stanegels pulled out a revolver and fired. Mrs. Colvin fell to the ground with a moan and the crazed murderer, while the woman was lying prostrate on the street with the blood streaming from the wound caused by the first bullet crashing through the brain of Mrs. Colvin, the bullet entering the left temple and passing out through the right ear. Stanegels then looked closely at his victim, apparently to make sure that he had accomplished his murderous purpose, placed the pistol muzzle to his own right temple and sent a bullet through his own head, literally blowing out his brains. He fell dead to the ground within five feet of his victim.

Images of the deceased from the 9/17/1894 issue of the Morning Oregonian

Images of the deceased from the 9/17/1894 issue of the Morning Oregonian

Once Mabel’s Portland family learned of the murder, they sent the following telegram to her father, Sullivan Forehand, who had never heard of Mr. Strengele (Sullivan and his wife had visited her months before her death, and the vacation had been written about in the local paper):

Mabel accidentally killed. Will be prepared suitably for shipment. Details by mail. Wire me instructions.

Mabel was shipped back to Worcester, given a proper funeral, and is buried at the Rural Cemetery on Grove Street in Worcester. Her brother, Frederic, had a relationship with the American Antiquarian Society and donated and sold several manuscript collections to us in the 1920s. So, even though I should have checked the authority file first, I’m glad I didn’t, since establishing authorities is rarely as interesting as this story was. I’m just upset I didn’t get to include this information in their file!


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Call for Co-editors for an AAS Glossary

February 1st, 2010, by Elizabeth Watts Pope

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The American Antiquarian Society is almost 200 years old. I guess that’s not entirely shocking, given that “Antiquarian” is in our name, but sometimes it’s easy to forget that when we were founded there were no functional steam-locomotives, no sewing machines, no modern matches.  Napoleon was still fighting his way across Europe.  Even “The Star-Spangled Banner” had yet to be written.

While I think you’ll agree we look very good for our age, two centuries of continuous collecting has given us a few wrinkles. Not everything is exactly where it started. In fact, the various stages of arrangement and cataloging of our collections provide a complete, if eccentric, history of librarianship and cataloging technologies.

Searching for collection material can feel like an archeological dig through layers of accumulated cataloging.  You hit strata from multiple centuries working backwards in time.  Level 1: digitized products. Level 2: online records.  Level 3: microform.  Level 4: a unique cataloging system.  Level 5: handwritten card catalogs.  Level 6: lists of collection material.  Level 7 (and this is the most tenuous of all): the back recesses of a librarian’s mind.  As the AAS Librarian reported on October 23, 1829:

The number of volumes now in the library exceeds eight thousand, and these are rendered almost useless from the fact that there are only two or three individuals who are acquainted with their arrangement or contents, and perhaps no one who can at all times find the book called for.

It may sound daunting, but this historical evolution is actually one of my favorite parts of working at AAS. It puts our collections on a human scale, since we are all slowly evolving.

Once you’ve worked here for a while, the weirdness wears off. You don’t have to consciously struggle to remember each unusual term. In fact, it becomes increasingly difficult to recall which words are common parlance, which are specific to “library people,” and which are AAS originals (which as you will see is a category onto itself). Here are some examples off the top of my head, in no particular order.

Things in the AAS Reading Room (other libraries may have these too):

1. Book Snakes (hint: here’s a picture of them in their natural habitat)booksnake
2. Trucks (seems like they wouldn’t fit in the building, but have you seen our dome? — it could be the new Thunderdome)
3. Cradles (for those sleepy researchers)
4. Fellows (they’re jolly good)
5. Call Slips

AAS Neologisms:

1. Cataloging campers (do they get to sleep over?)

2. Red sleeve (sounds cheerful, if somewhat lacking as a garment)

3. The Buff (which appropriately enough goes in a red sleeve to cover it up)

4. Pink Slip (given the scary recent unemployment figures, it’s not as bad as it sounds)

5. Stacks, Locked Stacks, & Stack D

6. Exit Passes

Most of the foregoing are merely amusing, but other terms can really benefit your research.

AAS Collection Names (most are abbreviations and so pretty easy to figure out, but they sometimes sound funny):

1. Lithf, Lithff, and Lithfff as well as Engrf, Engrff, Engrfff (sounds like a stuttering problem)
2. First Eds
3. Bibs (I thought we weren’t supposed to have food in the library)
4. CS5 (an American version of the MI-5)
5. Classed Collections (where are the gendered collections?)
6. Pams, Misc Pams, Dated Pams (way too many folks named Pam)
7. Dated Books (a bibliophile’s dream)
8. Digital Evans (Why didn’t they ask Digital Evans?, for the Agatha Christie fans among us)
9. Shaw-Shoemaker (which sounded vaguely like a Native American name to me)

Imaginary Places at AAS (my personal favorite, you may come across these figments in the card catalog):

1. First Eds Room
2. Map Room
3. Alcove B, or F, or D

Book Terms:

1. The Gutter (get your mind out of there!)
2. Chain Lines (sounds a little scary)
3. Provenance (sadly not the region in France, but almost as cool)
4. Ghosts (a term that seems to haunt the library)

The fascinating stories behind these odd terms will be periodically revealed in posts on Past is Present, as the fancy strikes us.  Hopefully, it will strike once a week. Our ultimate goal is a comprehensive AAS Glossary (hey, a girl can dream). While some of the above terms are common to many libraries, our definitions will be sprinkled with a generous dose of AAS history. After all, our 200th birthday is coming up soon so now is a good time to brush up on your AAS trivia to impress your friends and relatives.

To help us reach this goal, we  invite our Past is Present readers to join us as co-editors. The OED created a massive linguistic team by harnessing the power of individual readers and so can we!  When you think of another good example of an odd library term (from AAS or elsewhere), or if you see something in the lists above you’re particularly curious about, let us know and we’ll try to post on those first.

Better yet, feel free to comment on this post with your own definitions — the snarkier the better! I am confident you all will come up with some truly witty definitions to replace my corny one-liners.


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The Answer, or what to do when Google doesn’t give it up easily

December 1st, 2009, by Elizabeth Watts Pope

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Ding, ding, ding… We have a winner! Our exercise in crowd-sourcing research questions was a success, and all the antiquarian glory goes to peterme for solving the reference mystery posed in our earlier post. The correct book our reader was looking for was (drum-roll please) “The Way Our People Lived: an Intimate American History,” by W.E. Woodward. wayourpeoplelivedThank you to all who participated. You came up with great suggestions for further reading which I will forward to the reader who posed the question.

Personally, I was able to identify our mystery book through a Google Book search (so I knew I wasn’t sending you all on a wild goose chase), but trust me, the search was not an easy one! No matter what they say about online access, it still requires a lot of work to figure out the right questions to ask. If you’re sick of the Google bashing or if you think Google marks the end of civilized scholarly research (since we all know those are the only two options), then you may enjoy a recent exchange on the SHARP (Society for the History of Authorship and Publishing) listserv titled: “Do you use google books?“. You’ll find some great comments from scholars trained to think about book history and reading technology in intelligent ways.

Our new honorary antiquarian, peterme, describes his research process in his comments, but to give you the highlights: “in terms of finding it, Google was useless.” He went straight to his library’s catalog (yeah!) and was able to find the correct title. Check out our posts on “Anatomy of a Cataloging Record” or “The Embezzler Redeemed, Part I, Part II, or Part III” to see just how much behind-the-scenes work it takes from our catalogers to make the right titles show up in your searches. After peterme found what he thought was the right title, he continues: “I then googled that title, and found it was in the internet archive. I then searched the book to find that passage” i.e., the quote about the drinking babies. In case you want to check it out for yourself it’s on p. 40: “Babies were given beer and cider as soon as they were old enough to toddle.” So Google played an axillary role in his search strategy.

My own solution began with Google, starting with an “Advanced Book Search,” a feature I was unaware even existed until I was forced to resort to it in this desperate search. In the title line I put in the keywords “American” AND “Lived” (after playing around with a few different variations). I also set the date limit to between 1940 and 1990, assuming that while it certainly had to be published before our reader found it in the bookstore, it may have been older than he thought or have been republished. Turns out the book was originally published in 1944, which certainly threw me off a bit and perhaps some of you too, but it was republished just about every decade so our reader probably found a later republication in that bookshop in the 1980s.

no_cover_thumbThe right title showed up, but I got that frustrating blank book cover Google teases you with when it has “no preview available.” (Although, you’ll notice Internet Archive does does have the full text available.) Fortunately, there was a link from JSTOR to a review in The American Historical Review (Oct. 1944), which summed up the book thus: “All in all, the book is a potpourri of every variety of odds and ends of information gleaned along American folkways” (p. 145). Everything was sounding good, so with my heart in my throat I checked AAS’s catalog, discovered we had a copy, and when I pulled it from our stacks my heart was strangely warmed to discover I had the right book in my hands! I confirmed this with our reader and he is happily searching out a used copy of his own.

All this research talk leads me to ask a slightly twisted version of the question from the SHARP list-serv: “How do you use google books?” Please reply with your own research tricks and go-to alternative research sites (Internet Archive is one of our favorites), horror stories and triumphs. If you’ve solved a similar research mystery of your own, how did you do it? Let’s make “crowd-researching” the next hot trend.

Please join me in congratulating peterme for his perspicacity, and if anyone wants to give him a run for his money, maybe you can help me find a book another reader asked about that’s way beyond our scope at AAS? The clues I’ve been given are that it’s called “The Emperor” and it’s about how Japanese emperors are raised from early childhood. Happy hunting!


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The Question: See if YOU can solve this reference mystery

November 23rd, 2009, by Elizabeth Watts Pope

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I was in a bookstore in the ’80s and started reading a book about Puritans feeding their babies ale but now I can’t remember the title. Can you help me find the book?

bookquestionThis is the kind of question we live for at AAS: the test that can make or break you as a professional. Succeed and you will glow with a satisfaction almost akin to discovering gold at the end of a treasure hunt. Fail and it will haunt you for years to come. You may find yourself wandering the aisles of bookshops and libraries muttering about “Puritans,” “babies,” and “ale,” which believe you me will attract some strange sideways glances from the other patrons.

The Rules:
How would you discover the answer to this question? We hope you will share with us your research strategies, tips for searching online resources like Google, and the results you come up with. There is a right answer and I will post it next week, hopefully after we’ve heard some of your suggestions. Basically, this post is an exercise in crowd-sourcing and if it works we may have to begin outsourcing some of our toughest questions to you all. In fact, I already have one lined up which I wasn’t able to figure out. Can a group solve a mystery like this faster than an individual? Let’s find out…

The Clues:
1. The title was something like “How We Lived” or “How Americans Lived.”

2. It was a social history of America from the Puritans into the early 20th century and included something about taverns and the common substitution of ale among Early Americans for often-contaminated water. The book described the practice of weaning Puritan babies with ale (I guess to ease the let-down).

3. The book was spotted in the ’80s (the 1980s, I should clarify) and our questioner thought it had been recently published.

The Attempts:
Like any good researcher, my first instinct was to run right to the welcoming arms of that search-engine-to-the-stars: Google. After all, why do all the work if the milk (or in this case perhaps the ale) is free? However, when an initial search of Google didn’t yield easy success, I dug my heels in for a tougher fight. No matter what they say about online access making this generation lazy and less skilled researchers, it still requires a lot of work to figure out the right questions to ask of all these amazing resources. When I was still unable to find anything, I passed the buck to Diann who also struck out. Diann sent around an ALL-STAFF email asking if any other AAS staff members could help. We received some great suggestions, but none quite fit. Then my own competitiveness kicked in. I decided I was not going to let this be the one that got away so I went back in for another try and ultimately hitting the jackpot. How’s that for a paragraph full of mixed metaphors?

The Challenge:
Test yourself to see if you have the detective skills and research chops it takes to succeed. Finding the answer is all about figuring out the right questions to ask — and isn’t that a good skill to have in life? If you like your puzzles straight-up or want to find your own solution, you’ve been given exactly the same information we had. If you’d like a little extra help, click here for some hints based on how I found the book. Also, I should warn you there is at least one slight red herring in the information given, but what mystery doesn’t have at least one twist?

The Prize:
All the best intangibles: satisfaction and bragging rights.

Good luck, and I can’t wait to hear what you all come up with!

(Click here for The Answer)


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The Embezzler Redeemed – Part 3

November 16th, 2009, by Doris OKeefe

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Continued from Part 2 of the Embezzler Redeemed

One possible answer to this question is suggested by an account published in the November 19, 1803 issue of the Morning Chronicle.

We understand that the Manhattan Company have discovered a further fraud of about eight thousand dollars, committed by Benjamin Brower, previous to his elopements. It is said to have been done in his capacity of book keeper and of course involves his sureties. For the former deficiency they were supposed not answerable, as he purloined the amount while acting protempore as teller, a station for his conduct in which no surety had been given.

We are told that a letter was received from him with information that if the bank would set him at liberty he would make some important discoveries relative to his books. This exciting investigation the further deficiency abovementioned was discovered. The examinations, we understand are not yet completed.

brower_manhattan_company_bank_noteAlmost immediately this account was stated to be incorrect.  In fact, in some of the more distant newspapers covering the story, the account and the refutation were published at the same time.  But just suppose, in the course of the investigation, further irregularities and fraud were discovered.  Suppose the fraud involved more than Benjamin Brower absconding with $10,000.  Suppose the teller and first book-keeper who were absent from work on Saturday August 27, 1803, were involved in the scheme and purposefully absent so that the fraud might be committed according to a larger plan.  Except for the existence of a larger scheme we would have to believe that Brower hatched and executed the fraud within a single day when circumstances made him teller as well as book-keeper.  Could the Manhattan Bank survive a public trial which would surely raise these questions?

Even without the publicity raised by Brower’s fraud, the Manhattan Bank was much in the news during 1803 and 1804.  The annual election of directors was reported thus in the December 9, 1803, issue of the New York Evening Post.

The following was the successful ticket at the election on Tuesday for directors for the Manhattan Bank. The opposition which was contemplated was relinquished before the day of the election; it was found that too many Federalists were unwilling to put at the least hazard the value of their stock, in the attempt to gratify their wishes. This bank, which owes its origin to Mr. Burr, and was often made subservient to his political views, has now fallen completely into the hands of the Clintonians …

During the winter and spring, when the directors of the Manhattan bank might have been preparing their case against Benjamin Brower, it appears they were intensely involved in state politics encouraging the legislature to refuse a charter and halt the operations of the new, and competing, Merchants Bank.  Opinion pieces in various New York newspapers used words like “intemperate,” “hostile,” “despotism,” and “tyranny,” in describing the actions of the Manhattan Bank.  An account in the New York Morning Herald of March 20, 1804, copied from the Albany Centinel reports:

The committee on the subject reported to the House on Wednesday last, that it was expedient, &c. for the legislature to put a stop to the operations of the Merchant’s Bank in New-York – and a bill was accordingly read to that effect, allowing till October next for closing the business of the institution. Whether this report was the result of that temperate zeal for the public good, which ought to actuate the legislators of the state, or whether it was the illegitimate offspring of that party spirit which has unceasingly plotted the destruction of the Merchant’s Bank, is not for us to determine.

A gentleman has just informed us that the committee from the Merchants Bank offered stock to the amount of 20,000 dols. for the use of the state, if the legislature would incorporate them, and that the agent of the Manhattan Company outbid the petitioners. He offered stock in that company to the amount of 100,000 dols. if the legislature would suppress the new bank, So it seems the longest purse has won the cause.

On April 26, 1804, the following letter by “a citizen” appeared in the Morning Chronicle:

Citizens of New-York: This is the last day of the election. It is the last moment in which you can resist the efforts of a powerful and selfish aristocracy. … Do not then suffer any paltry inclemency of weather to detain you from the polls. …

The gale of political vengeance will overturn banks and carry ruin into our merchants counting rooms and warehouses, without decency, humanity, or remorse. A political tribunal, intolerant as ever disgraced a country, will be constituted by the Board of Bank Directors. The Manhattan Bank is already in their power. The Merchants Bank is already overthrown, others will be destroyed or seized, as best suits their convenience, and every mercantile man or tradesman, will be frowned on, and persecuted, who will not crawl in the dust at the feet of these people. …

The Manhattan Bank did not “set” Benjamin Brower at liberty but by failing to prosecute the case against him he was set free according to law.  The bank had recovered between $7000 and $8000 of the money stolen by Brower and presumably paid out between $1200 and $1300 in reward.  What they saved by avoiding a public trial and potential scandal in addition to the unfavorable press they were already experiencing was undoubtedly worth considerably more.

And so here is the final question.  Was New York City large and impersonal enough during the first decades of the nineteenth century that in the course of ten years Benjamin Brower’s past as an embezzler was forgotten, or had he truly been redeemed?  I find it hard to believe everyone had forgotten the sensational stories which filled the newspapers between September 1803 and May 1804.  Perhaps, as I have concluded, New Yorkers came to realize that Brower could not have acted alone in the embezzlement. Surely he was fortunate to have brothers who were willing and able to secure work for him in the years following his imprisonment.  His “pleasant and agreeable voice” and the tenor of his conduct which originally recommended him to the directors of the Manhattan Bank may also have played a role in his redemption, as may have his service during the War of 1812.  But it seems certain the Benjamin Brower was redeemed or parents would not have entrusted their sons and daughters to his academy, nor the school received their “marked approbation.”


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From Cheap-Jacks to Scrooge McDuck

November 15th, 2009, by Elizabeth Watts Pope

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In Cheap We Trust

Recent economic events have raised the profile of cheapness, which makes this Tuesday evening’s free public lecture at AAS a particularly timely event.  On Tuesday, Nov. 17, at 7:30pm Lauren Weber will be discussing the value of thriftiness in American history in a talk titled: ”From Cheap-Jacks to Scrooge McDuck: A Brief History of Cheapness and Thrift in America.”  By following this link you can learn more about the event, about Ms. Weber, and about the new book which this talk is based on: In Cheap We Trust: The Story of a Misunderstood American Virtue (2009).

In preparation for tomorrow’s lecture, what follows is some economic wisdom from that paragon of thrifty virtue, Ben Franklin, in his classic Way to Wealth (1758).  Way to Wealth is the ”uniform title” of the work, a cataloging term for a book’s moniker or nickname (another example being ”Bible”).  Uniform titles are especially important in rare book cataloging because, since the earliest incunabula all the way through the 19th century, title writers seemed to be in an extended quest to see just how long a title they could fit on a title page.  In fact, the actual title for Way to Wealth fills the entire title page (you may notice that in this paragraph-long title, the words that don’t appear are “Way to Wealth”).  Here’s the full transcription:

Father Abraham’s speech to a great number of people, at a vendue of merchant-goods; introduced to the publick by Poor Richard, a famous Pennsylvania conjurer, and almanack-maker, in answer to the following questions. Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Won’t these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we be ever able to pay them? What would you advise us to? To which are added, seven curious pieces of writing.

Thriftiness is not only verbally honored in Way to Wealth: after listing the table of contents, rather than leaving even a few lines of “unimproved” white space, the text proceeds directly to list the proverbs for which Franklin (or “Poor Richard”) has become famous.  Here are a few choice tidbits to keep in mind in these tough economic times:

  • Beware of little Expenses: a small leak will sink a great ship.
  • A Ploughman on his Legs is higher than a Gentleman on his Knees.
  • A Child and a Fool imagine Twenty Shillings and Twenty Years can never be spent.
  • When the Well’s dry they know the Worth of Water.
  • If you would know the Value of Money, go and try to borrow some.
  • He that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing.
  • ‘Tis hard for an empty Bag to stand upright, if it does ’tis a stout one.
  • Creditors are a superstitious Sect, — great Observers of set Days and Times.
  • ‘Tis easier to build two Chimnies, than to keep one in fuel.
  • Silks and Sattins, Scarlet and Velvets, have put out the Kitchen Fire.

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The Embezzler Redeemed- Part 2

November 12th, 2009, by Doris OKeefe

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Continued from Part 1 of “The Embezzler Redeemed”

A report that Benjamin Brower had been apprehended at Albany was refuted almost immediately as being “wholly without foundation.”  But on October 25, 1803, the New England Palladium (Boston) briefly reported he had been captured.  On the 29th the New York Morning Chronicle expanded upon the news of Brower’s arrest.

The Boston Gazette of Monday last, states that Benjamin Brower, who lately robbed the Manhattan Bank, of a very considerable sum of money, was taken up in that town, on Friday evening preceding, and after an examination, and the discovery of between 7 and 8000 dollars which had been concealed about his cloathes [sic], confessed the fact. He had taken passage, a few weeks since, from Newburyport for Passamaquaddy, where he arrived; but from whence he returned to Boston in a vessel commanded by Capt. Pulsifer, of Newburyport. It is to the vigilance of that gentleman with the aid of some others, that he was detected and committed. The reward for taking Brower is 500 dollars and ten per cent. of all the money recovered.

A brief notice in the May 2, 1804 issue of the New York Gazette stated “The trial of Benjamin Brower is postponed.”  A fuller communication published in the Washington Federalist (Georgetown, D.C.) on May 7th reads:

The trial of Benjamin Brower, who has already been confined upwards of 6 months, on a charge of the Manhattan Company, for defrauding their bank, is further postponed by his prosecutors; and I am informed that Mr. Brower is so unfortunately situated, from the prevailing prejudice, that he is unable to give the bail required.

Seventeen days later Benjamin Brower was released from custody, “not” to quote the newspaper accounts, “because he was innocent” but because at the time New York State law required all prisoners to be released and discharged after two sessions of the Court of Oyer and Terminer “if in that time no prosecution has been carried through against them.”

brower_wall_street

Between his release from prison in May 1804 and his death in May 1818, I located only two notices of him in any newspaper.  The first was published in the January 14, 1812 issue of the New England Palladium where Benjamin Brower was among five officers appointed to the 6th U.S. Regiment from New York. The notice concludes, “Mr. Brower, we believe, is a printer, and of the office of the N. York Public Advertiser.”  The second was published under the head “Washington Academy, no. 236 Greenwich-Street” and appeared in the November 25, 1817, issue of the National Advocate (New York).

Mr. Brower respectfully informs the patrons of this establishment and the public generally, that their liberal patronage has induced him to form an association with Mr. Holly, a gentleman of good character, liberal education, and much experienced in teaching …

This school has now been before the public nearly four years, and received its marked approbation. … The male and female departments are separate, and, at the same time, every scholar is under the constant eye of the principals. The young ladies are under the more immediate care of Mrs. Brower, and every attention is paid to their manners.

But it is the decided opinion of the principals of this institution, that the same degree of delicacy or modesty ought to be cultivated in the minds of both sexes, and that many of the evils in society can never be remedied until this principle shall universally be recognized, and until as much disgrace shall attend every aberration from strict delicacy and propriety of conduct in a male as that of a female…

I was collecting evidence but still didn’t have proof that the printer and embezzler were one and the same.  I turned next to the New York city directories.  In Longworth’s directories for 1801-1805, Benjamin Brower is listed as an accountant. brower_1804_directoryHis name does not appear in the directory for 1806, and in 1807 it appears without an occupation.  For the next two years, Benjamin Brower’s occupation is listed as milliner in association with Nicholas B. Brower, proprietor of a hat store at 109 William Street.  In  1811 and 1812, Benjamin Brower is once again listed as an accountant. By the next year, the directory listed him without an occupation but his address at 3 George Street put him in close proximity to the printer Samuel Brower at 16 George Street.  Benjamin Brower’s address first appears as 236 Greenwich Street in the 1814 directory, in which he is described as a reading teacher.  Finally, in keeping with the news articles, for 1815-1817 he is listed as the principal of Washington Academy. In 1818, his widow Mary Brower is listed at the Greenwich Street address.

brower_1818_directory

Assuming that Nicholas B. and Samuel Brower were related to Benjamin, and assisting him to get back on his feet, I went back to Ancestry.com and discovered that Nicholas B. and Samuel Brower were brothers, sons of Nicholas Brouwer and Mary Birdsall.  Nicholas Birdsall Brower was born at Fishkill, Dutchess County, New York, on April 26, 1772, the year after his parents were married.  Samuel was born at Wappingers Falls, also in Dutchess County, on May 4, 1786.  Also listed are two sisters, Mary born in 1783, and Martha, with no birth date given.  The children of both Nicholas B. and Samuel Brower were all born in New York City so I felt confident that they were, respectively, the proprietor of the hat store and the printer.  I also believed that Benjamin Brower was their brother.  In all the considerable authority work I have done in conjunction with cataloging, this would not be the first time that the “black sheep” was omitted from the family genealogy: the saddest case being that of a young woman who had committed suicide.  Her birth record was listed in the town’s vital records and I was able to find an obituary which noted several previous attempts before the successful suicide, but her name appeared nowhere in the family’s published genealogy.

By this time I was relating the story to colleagues over coffee and lunch, and decided it was worth pursuing even further.  I went back to America’s Historical Newspapers to read the articles I had skipped, and soon found the missing link between Benjamin Brower and Nicholas Brouwer of Dutchess County.  An article published in the September 24, 1803, issue of the Republican Watch-Tower (New York) began with the description of Brower which had already been widely disseminated but continued with new information uncovered during the investigation.

He went away from Newark, New Jersey, on Sunday morning, the 28th of August, in a horse and chair, with his wife and child, and some baggage. The horse was a bay, about 15 hands and a half high, though it is probable he has changed horses on the road. The chair has steel springs, plated mouldings, green painted body, with sword case … the lining of the chair body olive velvet … We have learnt that he went up the North [Hudson] River, on the westerly side, crossed at Peekskill, left his wife and child, with some or all of his baggage, at Wapping’s Creek, Dutchess County, where his father resides; took up there a small lad about 14 years of age, a brother of his, and proceeded with him towards Poughkeepsie. The persons dispatched in pursuit of him have been as far as Albany, but could not learn that he had been there, or any where in the neighbourhood. We conclude, therefore, that he took one of the roads just beyond Poughkeepsie, which led to Canada, Vermont, or into the eastern states; or possibly crossing the North River, with the intention of getting through the back part of New-Jersey and Pennsylvania, to Philadelphia or Baltimore, in order to leave the U. States. …

brower_manhattan_company_bank_noteThe evidence that Benjamin Brower, the accountant turned embezzler, was also the printer of the Daily Telegraph and the compiler of The Columbian Speaker, or Juvenile Orator was, at this point, strong enough to enter a record for him in the national Name Authority File.  But the question remained, why didn’t the Manhattan Bank carry through with the prosecution against him?  Brower had most of the money with him when he was captured, confessed to the crime, and the “prevailing prejudice” was against him.  It would seem that a guilty verdict was assured.

To Be Continued…


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Anatomy of a Catalog Record

November 10th, 2009, by Diann Benti

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People tend to treat catalog records a lot like refrigerators: open it, grab what you need, and close it up again. At AAS, the milk, eggs, and butter of the record are the author, title, and call number. Locate those three and the rest can stay a black and white blur. But know that somewhere a cataloger sheds a tear.

Cataloging to rare-book standards is an exacting process that treats the record as a surrogate for the imprint itself. The practice acknowledges the intrinsic value of each physical copy. It also recognizes the item as just one manifestation of the intellectual work as a whole. One scholar recently described using the AAS online catalog “almost every day while researching this book and years before I finally walked through the door in Worcester” because of the records’  “unparalleled annotations.”  It is the goal of AAS to eventually catalog all of its pre-1877 American imprints collection to such detail. At this point, just about all American imprints through 1800 and between 1821 and 1840, and 2/3 of those between 1801 and 1820, have been so cataloged.

But what work actually goes into creating a catalog record? From a variety of sources, bibliographic and copy-specific data is collected. That information is then tailored to meet both the Anglo-American Cataloging Rules 2 (AACR2)and the Descriptive Cataloging of Rare Materials (Books) [DCRM(B)] standards. Once formatted, the metadata is inputted into the Machine Readable Cataloging (MARC) structure that creates the backbone of the online catalog.

Confused yet?

The diagram below gives you the straight scoop on what it all means. (Click on it to open an expanded version in a new window.)

catalog_record


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The Embezzler Redeemed- Part 1

November 9th, 2009, by Doris OKeefe

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One of the great joys of cataloging is figuring out who the folks were who wrote, edited, illustrated, printed, published, or owned the books that cross our desks.  In most cases we don’t have time to delve into the lives of these people, and wistfully think that someone ought to write a dissertation on this person or that.  But occasionally a life is just so fascinating that we can’t help but look beyond the usual vital statistics.

When I took up The Columbia Speaker, and Juvenile Orator (New York,brower_columbian_speaker_preface 1815) to upgrade the cataloging record, the heading for the compiler had been entered as Brower, Benjamin, d. 1818.  I noticed that we also had a heading in the online catalog for a Benjamin Brower without dates who printed the New York Daily Telegraph in 1812-13.  It seemed likely that the printer and the compiler, who signed the preface “Benjamin Brower, Washington Academy, 236 Greenwich Street,” were one and the same, but I wanted to verify this assumption before adding the death date to the printer’s heading.

I began in Ancestry.com but found no record for a Benjamin Brower who died in 1818.  Nor did FamilySearch.org have a record for him.  Next I searched the America’s Historical Newspapers database where a May 6, 1818 obituary in the New York Gazette confirmed that the compiler of The Columbian Speaker had indeed died in 1818.

Died yesterday morning, after a painful illness, Mr. Benjamin Brower, in the 43d year of his age. His relations and friends are invited to attend his funeral this afternoon at 5 o’clock, from Washington Academy, no. 236 Greenwich-Street without further invitation.

Obituaries for Brower were included in four other New York City newspapers and a notice of his death was published in the Essex Register, Salem, Mass., suggesting that he was a man held in some regard.

None of the obituaries mentioned that he had ever worked as a printer, but what did grab my attention as I was scrolling through the database results  was a series of articles beginning in the Mercantile Advertiser on September 10, 1803.

The circumstances which have come to our knowledge respecting the reported embezzlement of money, by a person in the service of the Manhattan Company, are these—In consequence of the indisposition of Mr. Hunn (one of the tellers) and the absence of the first book-keeper, the situation of temporary teller on Saturday the 27th ult. devolved upon Mr. Benjamin Brower, who had been received into the bank with very respectable recommendations, and at that time filled the office of second book-keeper, to the entire satisfaction of the Directors, whose opinion of his integrity was highly flattering.

On the day above-mentioned, Mr. Brower received, in his capacity of teller, upwards of 70,000 dollars. The money delivered by him to the cashier, in the evening as the closing of the accounts fell 10,000 dollars short of this sum; but as the money and the written statement of receipts had been made to correspond in the sum total, no suspicions of fraud were entertained. Mr. Brower was absent from the bank on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday following; still from the tenor of his former conduct, and from the sickly state of the city, no one entertained a sentiment injurious to his reputation, or supposed his absence to be occasioned by any other circumstance than some derangement in his own health or the health of his family.

The adjustment of the accounts of the Bank, preparatory to its removal to Greenwich, took place on Wednesday evening the 31st, when a deficiency to the amount above stated was discovered, ‘and the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack.’

An enquiry was immediately instituted respecting Mr. Brower. The result was, that he had left the city on Sunday, with his family, but no person could give information to what part of the country he had absconded. Messengers were dispatched in different directions in search of him; but we understand all their vigilance has hitherto been unsuccessful.

The Manhattan Company have offered a reward of 500 dollars for his apprehension, and ten per cent. upon such part of the embezzled property as may be recovered.

A Manhattan Company bank note from the AAS collection.

The New York Evening Post included the story on September 12th and within days it was reprinted in newspapers North and South.  A widely copied description of Benjamin Brower appeared:

About 26 or 27 years of age; 5 feet 10 inches high; dark complexion, with some black or dark brown freckles on his face; of a thin or meager habit and face; nose and features sharp; dark blue eyes; black hair, short and combed over his forehead; has a remarkable tuft or lock of grey hair just above, or on a parallel line with his left ear; long neck, arms and lower limbs; walks actively; swings his arms much while walking; treads on his heels; and is somewhat knock-kneed; tone of voice pleasant and agreeable, though apt to hesitate when questioned closely.

Quick arithmetic proved that someone who died in 1818 in his 43rd year would have been born about the same time as someone who was 26 or 27 years of age in 1803 – in 1775 or 1776.   I skipped many articles, jumping ahead to learn what had happened to Benjamin Bower.

Continued in Part 2


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