O Say Can You See?

Kids bored? Tell ‘em a story...

Given where I work, you might guess that I love history. I also love books. And I love reading to and with my three kids. Given those facts, I have always been a strong supporter of the museum’s OurStory initiative, which promotes historical children’s literature in a variety of subjects relating to our research and collections—everything from prairie sod houses to Puerto Rican carnival to Pueblo pots. As a parent, I have found that the quickest way to engage kids in history is through a well-told story.

After seeing the museum’s "Join the Student Sit-ins" program recently, my family became interested in the protest at the now-famous Greensboro, N.C. lunch counter and other aspects of the civil rights movement. It dovetailed nicely with what my fourth-grader had been learning in school about the history of race relations in our home state of Virginia. So I was glad to see that the newly-redesigned OurStory Web site had a new section featuring a work of historical fiction on the same topic, Freedom on the Menu.

We borrowed the book and dived into the supporting online materials. A reading guide provided some historical context for the book (which reinforced what the kids had seen in the museum) and suggested questions for discussion as we read along. The site also offers a range of activities—suitable both for home and for more structured settings—that reinforce the historical themes and extend the experience. Because our family loves music, we chose to do an activity where we listened to civil rights songs on a referenced Web site, sang along, and even came up with a few of our own lyrics.

For any caregiver who is looking for a way to entertain elementary-age kids over the summer, or is simply looking for access to a great list of historical literature (nearly 200 books are referenced in a useful online search), I can heartily recommend the OurStory site. I know my family will be back for more.

Matthew MacArthur is Director of New Media at the National Museum of American History.

Never can say goodbye

When the rumor concerning Michael Jackson’s tragic death became fact, I raced to the Starbucks
on the corner of 7th and E, Northwest, in downtown Washington, D.C.

It was as close as I could get to the site of the clothing store (the name of which I cannot remember) where, 
in the late Spring of 1971, the tailor measuring the suit I would wear to my 9th grade graduation, would sing, and sing,
and sing the opening lines from the Jackson 5’s hit single “Never Can Say Goodbye.”

The tailor alternately crooned and chanted those four words-pausing only to ask if I was okay with 
the length of the slacks.

I simply nodded.

In part because the suit idea wasn’t mine to begin with, and because I shared his love for 
that aching, arresting love song, and wanted to return to that space.
I had him adjust the cuff length four times before my Mother gave a look which said “Let’s go!”

Today I could not tell you what that suit looked like if my life depended on it.
But I remember the exact site of the clothing store.
A glitzy art gallery stands in its place.

The 7th Street of my youth, adolescence and early adulthood was as different a place
as photos of the pre and post teenage Michael Jackson.

I was so overcome with emotion, I was sorely tempted to tell the otherwise bored barista about my experience. 
I’d say she was in her early ‘20’s-which probably meant she was more familiar with Michael Jackson the tabloid star
than the vocalist whose sound is as much a part of me as shyness, so I held back..

I can’t even remember what I ordered.

I do know that I stood in front of that gallery, lost in a 38 year-old memory.
I held the cup like the girl I dreamed of dancing with each time that sweet song played.

Reuben Jackson is a poet and associate curator in the Archives Center at the National Museum of American History.  This poem was featured on WAMU's Metro Connection.

The spirit of invention

I’m very excited about the publication of Julie Fenster’s intriguing new book, The Spirit of Invention: The Story of the Thinkers, Creators, and Dreamers Who Formed Our Nation, published in collaboration with the Lemelson Center. An award-winning author, Fenster focuses her attention not on well known inventors, but on the legions of obscure figures who collectively have transformed our world—the “little guys,” men and women alike, that Jerry Lemelson himself championed.

Pick up Fenster’s book and find out, for example, about the improbable and little known career of Robert Switzer, a Berkeley student who made a hobby of magic tricks. In 1932, an accident put him into a coma, from which he slowly recovered in an unlit room. To amuse himself in this darkened convalescence, he played with the spectacular rainbow emissions from fluorescent rocks. Turning on another light in his mind, this led to his invention of glow-in-the-dark paints that he and his brother marketed at first to magicians. Soon after, dropping out of college, the Switzers discovered a way to use ordinary sunlight to bring out fluorescent colors—Day-Glo, patented in 1947.

In contrast, Howard Head started on a more conventional path as a project engineer at the Glenn L. Martin aircraft company during World War II. Thereafter, however, things took a different turn—as in ski turns. An intense desire to excel in sports coupled with a sad lack of athletic ability motivated Head to seek technological advantage in sports equipment. He applied his knowledge of aircraft construction to the invention of futuristic skis, much lighter and holding sharper edges than the conventional wooden variety, which ended up revolutionizing the sport for amateurs and professionals alike. He later did the same thing for the game of tennis, introducing the oversized racket that has since become the standard. (You can see Head’s ski and tennis racket prototypes in the Lemelson Center’s Sporting Invention exhibit on the first floor west of the museum.)

So I invite you to dip into Fenster’s book and find compelling stories about common people driven by an uncommon inventive spirit who have changed our world.

Art Molella is Jerome and Dorothy Lemelson Director of the National Museum of American History’s Lemelson Center.

Connecting past and present

Visitors to the museum last Wednesday were in for a treat. In addition to viewing the museum’s usual exhibitions, they were also given the unique opportunity to see 12 new exhibits and meet their creators. Nineteen finalists from the Kenneth E. Behring National History Day Contest displayed and discussed their projects with visitors. I was truly blown away by these middle and high school students. They spoke confidently and professionally about their research and exhibits. Their months of hard work and dedication showed in their projects.

Marissa Lords and Tyler Stephens with their “Fighting For Victory One Stamp at a Time: Buster Hill” exhibit.

Students put a great deal of thought into the presentation of their research. An old-fashioned radio and fireplace created an atmosphere at the “FDR and the New Deal” exhibit. The students who created the “Alice Paul: ‘Jailed for Freedom’” exhibit made strategic choices about the tone of their project. “We wanted to show that Alice Paul was an ordinary woman and we kept it grayscale to convey what it was like in jail,” said Srishti Srivastava.

For many of the finalists, their research discoveries opened dialogue and created connections with people involved in their topic, propelling history out of the past and proving its relevance in the present. For her project "Justice Sandra Day O'Connor: Solidifying the Supreme Court," Jennifer Silver received a response from the Justice herself and a copy of the letter was included in the exhibit. Jacob Deitz, one of the creators of the “Abe Saperstein” exhibit said: “I never imagined that anything would happen because of National History Day, but the local newspaper wrote about us and the Harlem Globetrotters came to our school,” Jacob Deitz said.

Marissa Lords and Tyler Stephens, the creators of the “Fighting For Victory One Stamp at a Time: Buster Hill” exhibit, found the inspiration for their project in WWII memorabilia. “We found a pledge signed by Buster Hill, a young student, that said he would support the war effort in anyway he could,” said Marissa. They continued their research using a 1943 “School at War” scrapbook that described the war efforts of an elementary school class in Connecticut. “We published the names from the scrapbook and immediately we got a flurry of phone calls from people who had written in the scrapbook years ago,” said Marissa. “The stories of these children have taught me that everyone really does make a difference,” she said. “Even I have been able to make a difference by giving this history back to people who didn’t know what they were able to accomplish.”

Allison Scharfstein is an intern in the Office of Public Programs at the National Museum of American History.

A curator's favorite from the Scurlock Studio Collection

It’s been five years since I located this striking World War II era portrait of a young Washington, D.C., couple in the Scurlock Studio Collection housed in the museum’s Archives Center. It is my favorite among thousands of Scurlock photographs I’ve reviewed. I included it in my exhibition WWII Photographic Perspectives in 2004 and have kept a copy on my office wall since then.

Mr. & Mrs. U.S. Ricks. Photo by George Scurlock.

There’s something about the promise of this young couple, Mr. and Mrs. U.S. Ricks. I always wanted to know more about their story, their life. Did Mr. Ricks survive wartime? Did the couple enjoy a long marriage? Did they have children? Did they live their lives in Washington, D.C.? If yes, how did segregation affect their lives? And, what could they tell me about their visit to the Scurlock Studio? I didn’t uncover these answers until two weeks ago. Here’s the background story, a series of happy occurrences.

Working with my colleagues at the National Museum of African American History and Culture, I had the pleasure of co-curating a new Smithsonian exhibition The Scurlock Studio and Black Washington: Picturing the Promise, open until February 2010. In this exhibition, Mr. and Mrs. Ricks’ portrait is once again on view. The portrait attracts comments by many of the visitors I lead through the gallery and is also reproduced in the companion book.

A chance meeting at a local book-signing helped me locate Mr. and Mrs. Ricks. A woman named Alice Davis came to hear myself and the other editors of the book discuss the long history of the Scurlock Studio, owned and operated by the prominent local Washington, D.C., African American family. Ms. Davis purchased several books and stood in line to meet all of us, introducing herself as Mrs. Ricks’ sister. Gloria Ricks was still living here in D.C., and very proud of the portrait. Indeed one of the signed books was going to be a gift to her. Ms. Davis gave me Gloria’s phone number, and I followed up!

This handsome portrait of Ulysses and Gloria Ricks was taken by George Scurlock, just after Ulysses returned home from war in June 1944. Drafted into military service in 1941, he left his wife Gloria for the Pacific theater just two months after their marriage. The Ricks and Scurlock families knew each other well. Ulysses was a childhood friend of George Scurlock. Their family homes were both in the 1200 block of T Street, NW, Washington. Husband and wife both looked quite comfortable in front of the camera. They were expecting their first child later that year, and truly just starting their married life and professional careers.

Both Gloria and Ulysees were college educated. She attended Miner Teacher’s College, though not to become a teacher. Gloria worked at Chesapeake & Potomac Telephone Company, and was one of the first eight African Americans to integrate the company. Ulysses attended The Catholic University and later the Department of Agriculture Graduate School. Now retired, Ulysses was a trained librarian, and longtime employee of the Library of Congress. Today, after 67 years of marriage, Gloria still boasts of her beloved Ulysses, their son, and their travels around the world.

Sometimes you just know there’s a happy ending! I’ll keep the Ricks’ portrait up in my office long after the Scurlock exhibition closes. It serves as a reminder of my work collecting and exhibiting the Scurlock Studio Collection, and the importance of this archive to the local D.C. and national African American community. What a poignant and beautiful portrait it is, as so many are in the Scurlock Collection.

Michelle Delaney is Curator of Photography in the Division of Information Technology & Communications at the National Museum of American History.