Why Xerox, when you can PDF?

We recently had a call from a member of a session in Florida, routed to me because the session asked to have their records returned. Returns aren’t unheard of. Congregations may need to do extensive research in their own records to resolve property disputes, write histories, or celebrate anniversaries.

But archivists are trained to ask questions of our patrons. So I asked, “Do you need to do some research in the materials?”

“No, we were going to Xerox all of them to have a copy here.”

This response isn’t all that uncommon either. Many congregations see the photocopier as the quickest route to preserving their official records. But there are serious drawbacks to photocopying, and there are better alternatives.

For nineteenth- or twentieth-century volumes, the crushing, spine-breaking, and blasts of light associated with photocopying are significantly damaging. Even in the case of unbound recent records, precious church staff time is expended, the images produced may have lost text in the margins or gutters, and the end product will still be susceptible to decay. Photocopier toner has a propensity to bind to itself, especially in the presence of a three-ring binder’s vinyl. In that event, the church photocopies everything, and repeats the process five years later.

We maintain a microfilm program at PHS for exactly these contingencies. Start with handling: We shoot bound volumes in a book cradle, and the light output required is dramatically less than what a photocopier puts out. The film produced is silver-halide emulsion on a 35mm polyester base. This material is agreed to persist for 500 years.

The best part for congregations is that fragile materials preserved on microfilm can be safely and rapidly digitized. Once we’ve produced a microfilm surrogate of your records, the film can be scanned, and the images compiled into a PDF document. Typewritten text in the original has optical character recognition (OCR) performed on it, making the document keyword-searchable. Now, instead of flipping through hundreds of pages of minutes, congregations can press CTRL-F and find what they seek.

And since PHS subsidizes the cost of the program for congregations, we can provide a preservation-worthy and an easily accessible surrogate for your records at less than the cost of church staff time.

It turned out that our friends in Florida were swayed by our arguments for preservation and accessibility. Success! Their microfilm and their digital edition are now en route.

Please visit our website for more information about how our microfilm program can help your congregation, or email me at dstaniunas@history.pcusa.org.

PHS Archivist Wins Scholarship

Reference Archivist David Koch

We are very excited to announce that David Koch, Reference Archivist at PHS, has been awarded the Mid-Atlantic Regional Archives Conference Leonard Rapport scholarship to attend the Modern Archives Institute at the National Archives in Washington, D.C. The Modern Archives Institute is held only twice a year, and the MARAC Leonard Rapport scholarship is awarded to only one individual per session. The scholarship will help to cover the fees required to attend the bi-annual training session with introduces participants to archival theory and practice and the responsibilities of archival work.

David earned his Masters in Library and Information Science from Drexel University, and his Bachelor of Arts from Rutgers College. In his work at PHS he assists patrons with reference inquires both remotely and onsite and he collaborates on a variety of outreach activities. The training offered by MARAC will strengthen his ability to serve our patrons, and he will return from his two week course with new ideas that will benefit our reference team. Please join us in congratulating him.

What feels new is really old

One hundred and seventy-five years ago, the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. split into Old School and New School factions.  Significant differences about theology, polity, and slavery exacerbated tensions to the point that the Old School branch expelled the New School adherents from the General Assembly in 1837.  Indeed, the differences between the two groups were so evident that a Philadelphia-based newspaper announced in 1836 that:

The necessity for separation of the parties is urgent.  They do not agree; they cannot agree.  We can scarcely conceive of two parties more antagonistic in all the principles of their belief and practice.  They receive not the same Gospel; they adopt not the same moral code.

Earlier this month I participated in a course at Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary where I was asked to talk about the history of conflict in the American Presbyterian Church.  I assured those in attendance that what is happening in the denomination today is not new.  It just feels new.  Over the course of more than three centuries, the American Presbyterian Church has experienced significant divisions and schism over a multitude of issues.  However, the same history that has produced division and strife has also produced the opposite:  reconciliation and reunion. Indeed, when one looks at the history, there have been far more reunions than divisions.

The tensions between Old and New School Presbyterians developed decades before the split in 1837, and the animosity between the two factions lingered for years after.  But in the end, both sides reconciled, recognizing that the unity of the church was ultimately more important than conflicts over theology, polity, or ecclesial functions.

In order to help Presbyterians gain some perspective about their history, we have posted on our website a variety of resources about the history of conflict in the American Presbyterian Church.   These resources not only offer us insights into our past, but also provide models for helping the church think about and address divisive conflict today.   For more information, please click here.

Now is the Time

Let me give some straight talk to members of session: It’s not at all uncommon for ruling elders to hold on to volumes of church records after they’ve resigned from session, filing minutes and registers in the attic or basement, lost to time. You’re not alone. Retrieved records are a wonder to behold.

We received one such surprise visit the other day from Ron Shaffer of Old Pine Street Presbyterian Church, right in PHS’s backyard. Mr. Shaffer, an appraiser by trade, had taken an interest in the gaps in Old Pine’s collection of records held here, and since the church was preparing to celebrate two 250th anniversaries, he decided to hunt for the records among Old Pine’s congregants. So a few weeks ago he drew up a flyer and distributed it to the church membership, beginning: “Notice is hereby given to all intrepid readers of this broadside who were or now are associated with Old Pine Street Church or friends of Old Pine Street who may have in their possession and always intended to return historic documents […]”

Old Pine Street's all-points bulletin for records

And a few weeks later, there was Ron, with four volumes of records from Eighth Presbyterian Church, Atonement-South Presbyterian Church, and Scots Presbyterian Church, three of the predecessors to Old Pine, spanning 1828 to 1920.

Let me make a pitch for a New Year’s resolution way in advance: You can use our online catalog, Calvin, to search for records of your church held at PHS. If you can spot gaps in the collections, why not send out a message to former clerks of session, elders and congregants asking for information about any official records in their possession? When you do find records, feel free to contact me at dstaniunas[at]history[dot]pcusa[dot]org to talk about next steps!

PHS will be here

PHS Seal

I recently reviewed a book manuscript for a colleague about Presbyterians and American culture that I hope will soon be published.  It is an important and very timely study of how Presbyterians shaped and were in turn shaped by American culture over the past three centuries.

As I read each chapter, I was reminded that the documentary heritage that provides the foundation for that history has been collected and preserved by PHS since its beginning in 1852.  Fifteen years after the Old and New School split, PHS came into existence to collect and chronicle the history of the American Presbyterian church.  PHS was there when the opening shots were fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston, South Carolina – the city of its birth – that resulted in a war that further divided both the church and our nation.  It celebrated the reunion of Old and New School Presbyterians a few years after the end of the Civil War.  It was there to document the intense debates over Darwinism, temperance, biblical inerrancy and a “separate but equal” society created by our judicial system.

In the twentieth century, it witnessed our denomination’s increased role in ecumenism and the church’s struggles with issues of war and peace.  PHS was there during the Fundamentalist and Modernist debates in the 1920s and 30s.  It documented the intense debates about the appropriate role of women and other groups in the life of the church, the intense debates over the meaning of life and what it meant to be a prophetic witness in the world.

Thomas C. Pears (on left), Director of the Presbyterian Historical Society, and staff member Guy Klett ready for the unveiling of the PHS exhibit at the 1938 PCUSA General Assembly meeting at Convention Hall in Philadelphia, celebrating the sesquicentennial of the first General Assembly.

And now more than a decade into this century, the Presbyterian Historical Society continues to collect, preserve, and share the story of the American Presbyterian experience by connecting with Presbyterians in new and exciting ways.  How we fulfill our original mission will be shaped by the technological advances that have redefined both the informational and archival landscape.

So as the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) seeks to become a more missional church within a newly emergent global movement, PHS will continue to fulfill its core mission.  As the PC(USA) lives out its mission within the context of nFOG and the myriad of issues which both divide and unit us as a people of faith, PHS will continue to guard our heritage against both the fires “that consume and the folly that forgets, providing a sacred, silent witness to the struggles and sacrifices” of those who have gone before for the benefit of the next generation of Presbyterians.

Frederick J. Heuser, PhD.

New Jersey and Oregon churches receive PHS Microfilming grants

First Presbyterian Church, Bordentown, N.J., before removal of the steeple in 1914

First Presbyterian Church, Bordentown, New Jersey; and Covenant Presbyterian Church, Gresham, Oregon, have received 2011 Heritage Microfilming Grants.  Funded this year by Fourth Presbyterian Church (Chicago, Ill.), the $300.00 grants will cover most or all of the cost of microfilming the congregations’ vital records including session minutes and church registers.

The Presbyterian Historical Society established the Heritage Microfilming Grant program in 2001 in honor of its 150th Anniversary.  Awarded annually to encourage and support the preservation microfilming of congregations’ official records, the grants go to Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) congregations that have fewer than 250 members, are at least 50 years old, and demonstrate both preservation and financial need.  Visit our website for more information: http://www.history.pcusa.org/preservation/pdfs/heritageMicro.pdf

The Forgotten Prophets

The Witherspoon Building, Philadelphia

One of the joys of my job is getting to play historical detective. I got a clue one day of a possible new discovery when a gentleman came to the reference desk asking if we had any pictures of the old prophet statues on the original Witherspoon Building.

Erected in 1896 near Broad Street, the Witherspoon Building cost a staggering one million dollars to build and was once the tallest structure in Philadelphia.  My initial reaction was surprise. I knew about the six Witherspoon statues of prominent American Presbyterians currently outside the Historical Society’s headquarters. But statues of biblical prophets? I hadn’t heard about those. My interest grew as the visitor explained that he and other researchers didn’t know what happened to the prophet statues.

When I found time, I began digging in the archives. Decorated in the American Renaissance style, the Witherspoon Building was built for various departments of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., including the Presbyterian Historical Society and General Assembly offices. The building’s ornate stone work was symbolic as well as aesthetic. The statues of the six towering figures of American Presbyterianism (Francis Makemie, John Witherspoon, John McMillan, Samuel Davies, James Caldwell, and Marcus Whitman) stood above the Walnut and Juniper Street entrances to the building. Above them on the eighth floor were ten statues of biblical prophets. The prophet statues were placed there to symbolize their role as intermediaries between heaven and earth. As imposing as the Presbyterian statues are, the prophets stood a foot and a half taller at ten feet six inches.

Witherspoon Building statue of the prophetess Deborah

Starting on Walnut Street and continuing to Juniper and Sansom Streets, the prophet statues depicted Moses, Samuel, Elijah, Elisha, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel and John the Baptist. Interestingly, the two most prominent corners of the building were reserved for two prophetess statues: Deborah and Huldah.

Samuel Murray, in collaboration with Philadelphia painter Thomas Eakins, sculpted the prophets. He based the statues on descriptions provided by William Henry Green, a theologian and Hebrew scholar at Princeton Theological Seminary.

When the Historical Society moved from the Witherspoon Building in 1967 to its current location on Lombard Street, it took the six Presbyterian statues by Alexander Stirling Calder. Today, they are safely preserved in front of the Society. The prophet statues were not so lucky.

According to a 1969 memo from the Board of Christian Education, the Philadelphia Memorial Park Cemetery in Frazer, Pennsylvania, bought eight of the prophet statues for an undisclosed amount. The Moses and Elijah statues were sold to Arthur Garrett, President of Community Utilities, Inc. in Skagway, Alaska.

A recent call to the Memorial Cemetery confirmed that the Prophet statues were once there, but were sold in the 1970s. No one at the cemetery’s office could say to whom. According to an article that appeared in a 1979 issue of Arts Magazine, only three of the prophet statues survived: Moses, Elijah and Samuel.

What remains of these amazing statues exists only in photographs such as those currently preserved at the Presbyterian Historical Society.

-Reference Archivist David Koch

Witherspoon Building statue of the prophet Samuel

Witherspoon Building statue of John the Baptist

Witherspoon Building statue of Moses

Thanks for Giving

Church food drive, Boston, ca. 1950. Religious News Service, RNS 11026

From the Executive Director…

Fall is the traditional season of stewardship for churches and many non-profit institutions.  Many are familiar with the experience of raising funds for institutions in order to fulfill a particular mission.

A focus only on raising funds misses the point of our Reformed understanding of stewardship.  As Reformed Christians, we demonstrate that understanding by giving of our time, our talents, as well as our sacred resources.  Too frequently, I suspect, we fail to give thanks for those who have shared their gifts of time and talent as well as resources.

For the past several years, PHS has recognized the many volunteers who make a difference in the life of this place.  At this November’s board meeting, we acknowledged those individuals who enhance and enrich our work:  our board, the program volunteers who perform a myriad of required tasks and our development volunteers who help us to raise friends as well as funds.

Last, but not least, we are especially appreciative of the individuals who entrust to our care those valuable historical records that help chronicle the story of the American Presbyterian experience.  Because of their generosity and trust in PHS, the documentary heritage of the Presbyterian experience in America is richer and more complete.

Maya Angelou once noted that “I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands.  You need to be able to throw something back.”  Indeed, those who serve PHS through giving of their time, talents, and resources exemplify the spirit of her sage advice.

So in this stewardship season, PHS is thankful for the blessing of those who have and continue to serve us and thus make it possible for us to serve others.  Their variety of gifts enriches us as a servant community.

Fred Heuser, Ph.D., Executive Director

 

Summer in the City

Luerell "Duckey" Map with camera, 1966.

Forty-five years ago this month, six youngsters from West Philadelphia held a public screening of a short autobiographical film. This may not seem remarkable in the age of YouTube, but their 16mm home movie, Not Much To Do remains a fascinating document, and a testament to the power of community partnerships to amplify the voice of the city.

In 1966, Robert D. Stoddard, a recent graduate of Princeton Theological Seminary and assistant pastor at Tabernacle Presbyterian Church in West Philadelphia developed a film club for the local children who attended Tabernacle’s Christian Education class. Stoddard’s initial notion was to have the children film adaptations of Bible stories, but a professor at the University of Pennsylvania’s Annenberg School of Communication, Sol Worth, advised him to let the children simply roam with the camera. With funding from the Board of Christian Education and from the Presbyterian Women’s Thank Offering, six youngsters — Barry Griffin, James Lucas, Ronald Mapp, Luerell Mapp, Michael Watters, and Howard White — were taught to shoot, develop and edit film. An Annenberg student, Ben Achtenberg, served as director.

Edited in the library at Tabernacle, set to a jazz organ soundtrack, a plotless film coalesced around a guiding theme: there is not much to do in Philadelphia. The irony of the film’s title of course is that the group finds plenty to do: they swim in the fountains in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, slapbox on the roof of an abandoned firehouse, roll down hills in Fairmount Park, roam free. Presbyterian Life called the film “magnificently non-slick,” adding “It conveys the swelter of a city alley in August, the terribleness of skeletons in a museum, the joy of rolling down a grassy slope [...] the authentic word about being young, about wriggling out of the handcuffs of inexperience, about having so much to do even when there’s not much to do.”1

The boys continually talk about getting caught — while climbing around in the abandoned firehouse, while scrambling down the banks of the Schuylkill, while sneaking into the Wistar Institute. But the city itself appears largely deserted, and the only figures around to assert any authority are rumpled-looking beat cops. Coming in the wake of Philadelphia’s 1964 Columbia Avenue riots, the film treats the police department’s reputation for brutality as the stuff of fairy tales.

“Not Much To Do” premiered at the Annenberg School on Monday, November 14, 1966. The Philadelphia Tribune envisioned it as the work of skilled social satirists: “the half-hour documentary film takes pot-shots at the City for failing to provide adequate recreation facilities for youngsters, and at police for intolerance and lack of understanding.”2 Rev. Stoddard partly reinforced this view, emphasizing the inaccessibility of the nearest gym, at the Drew School at 38th and Warren. The film was received affectionately at Annenberg, and six copies were prepared for distribution to schools and church groups.

Two of those copies are held here at PHS, along with clippings collected by Rev. Stoddard. With assistance from NFL Films, we’ve transferred the film to DVD-video and MPEG-4 formats. Watch this space for more news about Not Much to Do.

While the film may have enlightened white, adult audiences to the realities of summer in the city, for the six youths not much changed: asked by the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin what kids from the neighborhood thought of the new filmmakers, Michael Watters replied with equanimity, “Some of our friends call us pros and some call us bums.”3

1. Ikeler, Bernard. “Tom Sawyer in the City,” Presbyterian Life. February 15, 1967. p. 41.
2. “Six Teenagers ‘Shoot’ Movie Rapping City, Police, Recreation Dept..” Philadelphia Tribune. Nov. 12, 1966. p.2.
3. “Six Boys Film a Picture That ‘Had to End Tragically,’” Philadelphia Evening Bulletin. November 15, 1966. p.22.