Newberry Library

The period often considered the golden age of American type design (ca. 1900–ca 1940) saw the creation of a number of library collections specialized for the study of printing history. The most important of these were the John M. Wing Foundation at The Newberry Library of Chicago (founded in 1919) and the Department of Printing and Graphic Arts at Harvard’s Houghton Library (established in 1938). Both took inspiration from contemporary advances in bibliography and textual studies and both set out to exemplify printing history with specimens of type on the page for scholarly comparison; but they had differing emphases from the start, determined by the personalities and programs of their founders. The will of journalist John M. Wing (1845–1917) specified a collection that would allow study of “every significant development of the arts of printing and book production.” The first curator, Pierce Butler (1886–1953) began with incunabula and collected typeface by typeface through the centuries. Harvard’s Philip Hofer (1898–1984) was influenced by Butler’s classification scheme, but as an art historian, he began with aesthetic categories and emphasized design issues like illustration. As the two collections developed there were additional divergences, but also parallel interests, and both collaborations and rivalry. All the curators involved (Hofer in Cambridge and three successive librarians in Chicago) responded to ongoing developments in textual studies and in some cases anticipated them, both in their collection building and in their publications on printing history.

Abstract A popular 1941 gallery show in Chicago entitled “The Advance Guard of Advertising Artists” included five prominent European advocates of modernist design and four Americans who did daring and innovative work. All but one of these designers is today included in the mid-century design canon. The odd man out was Frank Barr (1906–1955), a Chicago letterpress printer with a modest, entirely local reputation both before and after the exhibit. This article explores Barr’s career to explicate the meaning of avant-garde design during at the period and shed light on the larger question of canonical status. Chicago was a major industrial and printing hub that nonetheless seemed provincial in design terms into the 1930s. Many design professionals educated there (like Barr) had remained content with the opportunities the city provided. The arrival of the New Bauhaus in 1937 injected new vitality into the local design scene and gave birth to a fresh sense of Chicago’s potentially international credentials. Barr’s career spanned the two decades of this transition and provides a useful case study of provincialism, avant-garde status, and internationalism.

Abstract Paulus Pfinzing von Henfenfeld embodied the gentrification of geometry in late sixeenth-century Nuremberg. A patrician merchant, Pfinzing developed and invented surveying tools, and publicized their use. He is famed for his so-called Pfinzing Atlas of manuscript maps of the Nuremberg area that he completed in 1594. His legacy in print of two now rare books from 1598–1599 on surveying and on geometric solids is less well known, as Pfinzing published them both anonymously. The former entreated the well-educated to take up surveying, while the latter presented a summary of recent scholarship on geometric solids based on Albrecht Dürer and Wenzel Jamnitzer, among other luminaries. This article investigates the ways Pfinzing used his knowledge of surveying and familiarity with Nuremberg publishing to present geometry as a gentlemanly pursuit.

"Granville Stapylton: Australia Felix 1836, Second in Command to Major Mitchell." Terrae Incognitae, 52(3), p. 314

Andrew J. Diamond offers an ambitious synthesis in Chicago on the Make: Power and Inequality in a Modern City. He strives for a “people’s history of Chicago” in the twentieth century and to “integrate the bottom up and the top down, to combine total history and microhistory, to bring the political, social, cultural, and economic into the same frame” (5). This methodological utopia is not reached and is perhaps unattainable. More modestly, Diamond has written a history of the clash between progressive politics and strong mayors in Chicago’s twentieth century. The book is animated by the author’s frustration with a city that remains deeply divided and unequal, described as “two Chicagos,” one largely white and thriving, the other largely black and Latino and struggling (7). This outcome, Diamond argues, was not driven by larger economic forces but by politicians with neoliberal agendas who used the politics of race to manipulate the electorate and reshape the city’s political culture in ways that created profound inequalities.

What is Geronimo doing sitting in a Cadillac? Why is an Indian woman in beaded buckskin sitting under a salon hairdryer? Such images startle and challenge our outdated visions of Native America. Philip Deloria's revealing accounts of Indians doing unexpected things - singing opera, driving cars, acting in Hollywood - explores this cultural discordance in ways that suggest new directions for American Indian history. Deloria chronicles how Indians came to represent themselves in Wild West shows, Hollywood films, sports, music, and even Indian people's use of the automobile - an ironic counterpoint to today's highways teeming with Dakota pickups and Cherokee sport utility vehicles. He also examines longstanding stereotypes of Indians as invariably violent, suggesting that, even as such views continued in American popular culture, they were also transformed by the violence at Wounded Knee. Throughout, Deloria reveals previously hidden narratives that force us to rethink familiar expectations. These secret histories, Deloria suggests, compel us to reconsider our own current expectations about what Indian people should be, how they should act, and even what they should look like. More important, he shows how such seemingly harmless (even if unconscious) expectations contribute to the racism and injustice that still haunt the experience of many Native American people today.

This article explores the relationship between voice and the sea in Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, focusing in particular on the role played by Pip, a character who falls into the ocean and seemingly goes mad. Reading Pip through critical frameworks offered by recent work in Oceanic Studies, I argue that Pip's speech-acts symbolically echo the fluidity and instability of the non-human oceanic depths. Further, by giving voice to that which is otherwise rendered silent by his shipmates, Pip challenges both the linguistic authority of the human crew of the Pequod and Ahab's tyrannical hegemony.

At the centenary of Charles Ammi Cutter’s death, his Expansive Classification (EC) is still the primary scheme used in four libraries, while twenty-three others continue to maintain some portion of their collections in EC. In this study, fifty-seven libraries in the United States, Canada, and England have been identified as past or present EC users. Dates of their adoption and, if applicable, abandonment of the scheme are provided. Of the libraries where EC is a legacy scheme, the reasons for abandonment were sought, as well as determining the type of classification to which the library had moved to and whether EC was still employed for certain materials, or whether reclassification had been completed. Librarians at the four libraries still using EC as their primary scheme were interviewed about how revisions are made to the schedules and the practicality of remaining an EC institution.

Liberty Like Thunder: Race, Article XI Enforcement, and the Odyssey of Guadalupe Hidalgo (1848) Get access Robert F. Castro, BA, Ph.D., J.D. Robert F. Castro, BA, Ph.D., J.D. Associate Professor of Politics *Administration ' Justice at the California State University, Fullerton. This article is based on an invited lecture given at the Newberry Library in Chicago, IL (March 2012). Robert holds a in Criminology, Law ' Society from U.C. Irvine. A, in Political Science from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, and a from the UCLA School of Law where he was in the inaugural class of the Program in Public Interest Law ' Policy (PILP). He is a former Gilder-Lehrman Postdoctoral Fellow in Slavery, Abolition, and Resistance from Yale University. His work on race, slavery and captive-taking has been published in academic journals like the Political and Legal Anthropology Review, La Raza Law Review (U.C. Berkeley), and twice in Slavery ' Abolition: A Journal of Slave ' Post-Slave Studies. The research for this article was supported by a Scholar-in-Residence Fellowship from the Office of the New Mexico State Historian, a John Topham and Susan Redd Butler Faculty Research Award from Brigham Young University, and a President Milton Gordon Research Grant from the Cal State University, Fullerton. Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar American Journal of Legal History, Volume 53, Issue 3, July 2013, Pages 303–327, https://doi.org/10.1093/ajlh/53.3.303 Published: 01 July 2013