The Palimpsest

Bell, Michael J

English

To Light Out for the Territories Ahead of the Rest

Hein, Ruth D

A  T o w n  G ir l  
B e c o m e s  a  F a r m  H e l p e r
by Ruth D. Hein
W
HEN I ASKED, “Why do you
cap the shocks of barley? the 
boys who lived on the farm 
answered, Because it only has a 
beard and not a cap, and so it’s bald-headed.
In their perspective, I must have asked a lot 
of dumb questions as a town girl. Dad was a 
minister in Van Horne in Benton County, 
Iowa, from 1925 into the 1940s. Since I was the 
middle child with two brothers and two sisters, 
not all ol us were needed to help at home. I was 
the one who liked to cook and bake and work 
outdoors more than I liked to read or embroi­
der. That’s how it came about that when I was 
about fifteen I was spared from family duties 
and for several summer vacations around 1940 
I worked instead for two farm women.
Being a town girl, I didn’t know one grain 
from another — except for corn. When I took 
lunches out to the men and boys in the fields, 
the blades scratching my bare arms and neck 
was a clear sign that it was a cornfield I was 
running through. But knowing which field was 
barley, which was oats, and which was timothy 
was beyond me — until the boys told me that 
barley was bald-headed. ‘That’s why we cap 
the shocks,’ they explained. I never was sure if 
they weren’t just joking with me.
I worked for Paula and George Werning and 
later for Walter and lima Schminke, two Ben­
ton Countv farm families who were related to✓
each other. I soon learned that mealtime, 
especially on the Werning farm, was full of 
delights. One treat was a bowl of garden lettuce 
with real whipped cream and just the right 
amount of vinegar and sugar. (I had to learn by 
trial and error how much vinegar was just 
enough.) And I was surprised to find cake or 
leftover pie on the breakfast table along with 
fried potatoes and bacon and eggs. Of course,
we finished the meal with homemade sweet 
rolls. I learned to make huge pans of raised 
cinnamon or pecan rolls. No one seemed to 
mind, either, if I experimented with prune, 
apricot, peach, or apple coffee cakes. Healthy 
appetites put good food in constant demand. At 
mealtime in the summer kitchen, the radio was 
usually tuned in to the news and weather. But 
no matter what we were listening to, when all 
of us were seated and ready to fill our plates, a 
hand reached out first to turn the radio down 
while we joined in asking God’s blessing on our 
meal and on us.
Never had I, a “p.k. (preacher’s kid), tasted 
beer. But when neighboring farmers finished 
harvesting their summer crops, they held 
threshing parties. They usually had beer and 
food at these get-togethers. I overcame my 
built-in inhibition when everyone assured me 
that on the farm, at the threshing party, it was 
okay to try the forbidden. My taste buds soon 
told me beer was pretty bitter, and a taste was 
enough. But in the tasting, I felt like one of the 
crowd.
A
S A HELPER on the Schminke farm,
my courage and confidence were 
boosted considerably by the respon­
sibility of arising at 4:30 a . m . to build 
a fire in the summer-kitchen range. I learned to 
start it with paper, cobs, and then wood. While 
the fire built, I went out to pump water from 
the well to fill the reserv oir. At just the right 
time, the damper on the range had to be closed
Opposite (front row, from left): Lois, Lenore, and Elaine 
Schminke, daughters of Walter and lima Schminke, on 
whose farm the author worked in the summer of 1940. 
Author Ruth Ullerich Hein holds Ruth Schminke, born 
that July. Dolores W erning is in the center.
94 THE PALIMPSEST
SUMMER 1990 95
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to cut down on the draft. Occasionally the roar-
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ing in the firepot and stovepipe scared me a 
little, but I grew accustomed to it.
On Mondays, I used the fire to heat a copper 
boiler full of water for a huge washing that I 
hung out on clotheslines by the garden. Later 
in the week, the fire warmed a dishpanful of 
bread dough that I had set to rise near the 
stove. By late afternoon on baking days, ten 
fresh loaves would stand in line cooling. Mag­
ically, one usually disappeared, in buttery 
slices before supper.
Ten-year-old Dolores Werning and I did a 
lot of the work together on the Werning farm. 
But one thing Dolores didn’t like to do was to 
wash one part of the cream separator. A ring of 
casein had to be removed first by running one 
or two fingers under it to loosen it from the 
metal cup. The casein was smelly and slimy. I 
was stuck with that job, and it always felt 
especially good to be finished, after all the milk 
pails, cream cans, and separator parts had been 
washed, rinsed, and set to dry on the fence in 
the fresh air and sunshine, ready for the next 
milking.
HE WERNING FAMILY included 
two boys about my age. I often heard 
popular tunes being whistled from 
the barn at earlv-morning milkings, 
and I always imagined that the songs were 
chosen especially for me, a teen-aged girl haul­
ing in water for the day from the well in the 
front yard. The whistling made me feel 
noticed. (Maybe though, they whistled in Jan­
uary, too, when I wasn’t there.)
The boys delighted in teasing me. Many’s 
the time my apron strings were untied “acci­
dentally while I was helping set a meal on the 
table in the summer kitchen. Yet if a bucket of 
drinking water was spilled on the floor in the 
process, someone always helped mop it up and 
get more water. Working in the summer 
kitchen was a little like living in a summer 
cabin: we didn’t really have to mop up all the 
water or sweep up all the sand or grass tracked 
in from the vard. It was a relaxed, casual wav of 
living amidst the hard work of summertime.
In the Werning family, the parents expected
us to rest when they did, right after lunch. The 
younger generation found the front porch the 
coolest place at noon. We sat in rocking chairs 
to read or stretched out on woven scatter rugs. 
In the evening, when the day’s work was done, 
we carried the rugs and porch pillows out to the 
front yard, where we could wind down in air 
that cooled before the house did. We all talked, 
sang songs, and enjoyed the time together. We 
kids were all in our growing-up years, but in 
the friendly company of the parents sitting in 
their lawn chairs, nothing more happened than 
a few stolen handclasps beneath each other’s 
porch pillows.
On Sundays the Werning and Schminke 
families and other relatives often had gather­
ings in the nearby town of Newhall. Each fam­
ily brought food and all the kids. I gradually 
met enough of the clan to feel at home with 
them, and it seemed to me that there was more 
to life than going to my own home (all of five 
miles away) for the weekend. I had discovered 
the companionship of friends my own age. 
After church there were the big potluck din­
ners followed by conversation and finally, in 
mid-afternoon, the baseball games.
LTHOUGH THOSE WEEKENDS 
did wonders for me as a person, they 
didn’t add to my monetary income. 
The first summer I worked on a farm, 
my pay was three dollars a week. It eventually 
increased as high as five dollars a week, 
depending on my responsibilities. I saved the 
money for my upcoming tuition at Iowa State 
Teachers College in Cedar Falls. (Of course, 
tuition was then as minimal as the wages.)
I realize now that those summers prepared 
me for college in more ways than financially. I 
adjusted to being away from home, and I 
gained valuable work experience that proved 
useful in a similar job during college working 
for a Cedar Falls family for three years for room 
and board. Through association with good peo­
ple, I had learned a great deal, developed a 
strong sense of self-worth, and made long-lasting 
friends in my summer jobs on family farms. □
96 THE PALIMPSEST


A Town Girl Becomes a Farm Helper

Gunter, Helen Clifford

A Young Latin Scholar: University Life in the 1920s

Spencer, Carole A

Victorian Crazy Quilts

B\ I HE TIME I was horn into a farming ters, the grandeur of the setting all lent thresh-
neighborhood in Blue Grass Township, Scott ing the quality of a well-staged drama. The >
County, Iowa, we no longer threshed. But I pace must have been fast and steady — work- |
remember my mother reminiscing about ing against the elements, to the rhythm of I
threshing, about the excitement and urgency. machines, amidst the humor of good neigh-
Now, as an editor who has leafed through bors.
files of images, I can attest that threshing was The following images and words reveal the
certainly one of the most photographed events powerful place that threshing holds in the col-
of farm life — and I wonder what I missed. The lective memory of rural Iowans. 
imposing machinery , the proud casts of charac- _jhe Editor
56 THE PALIMPSEST I
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Otto Nolte (center) balances proudly on threshing rig he owned with Boss Harris in the 1920s near Sheffield
It was all poetry for 
nd we wished every 
/ere threshing day/’
Hamlin Garland 
of the Middle Border
SUMMER 1990 57
^VV-v- -
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“I counted the number of men it 
took to keep the machine busy.
Let’s see, there were eight bundle 
haulers, four pitchers out in the 
field to load the bundles, two spike 
pitchers at the machine to help 
pitch offloads. . . .
Then there were two grain 
haulers with wagons, two men to 
help shovel off the grain at the 
granary, one or two men inside to 
pile the oats back, a couple of men 
stacking straw (and what a dirty job 
that was, behind the blower), and 
the engineer, separator man, and 
water boy. Twenty-six to twenty- 
eight men, all hungry, hot, and 
sweatv.”y
James Hearst, Time Like a Furrow
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“Pitching the bundles, guiding the 
blower, stacking the straw, and 
removing the threshed grain was 
accomplished in a working rhythm. 
In retrospect one is conscious of the 
underlying harmony of 
cooperation.”
Gladys S. Benz, “Furrows of Time
58 THE PALIMPSEST
Above: Eighteen threshers near Anamosa, about 1920. 
Below: Threshing crew, August 1924.
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Top: Hayracks lined up, late 1800s
Bottom: Threshing at the Axel Hammerstead farm with
the Transcontinental Threshing Company, 1915.
Right: Smoke fills the sky around the Transcontinental 
Threshing Company, circa 1919.
“It was exciting to have the 
threshing still in progress when 
Edna and I came home from 
school, or on a Saturday when we
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could watch the work all day.”
Gladys Benz, Furrows of Time
60 THE PALIMPSEST
“The interesting thing is how we all 
roughly estimated how much help 
we owed each other. A man with 
twenty acres of oats to thresh 
shouldn’t send as much help as a 
man with eighty acres. It all 
worked itsell out, and no one felt 
cheated.”
James Hearst, Time Like a Furrow
All through the autumn months, 
the ceaseless ringing hum and the 
bow-OUW, OUW-,1)00-00-001)1 ol
the great balance wheels on the 
separator and the deep bass purr of
its cylinder could be heard in every 
valley like the droning song of some 
sullen and gigantic autumnal 
insect.”
Hamlin Garland, A Son of the Middle Border
SUMMER 1990 61
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“The full blast from the blower hit 
the stack builder full force each 
time the blower came bv. . . .J
There was nothing to do but shut 
his eyes, turn his back, and have 
the full blast of oats straw, chaff, 
dust, and dirt blown into evervWJm
crack and crevice of his clothes
while he inhaled it with each 
breath. . . . Dad woidd cough and 
spit oats dust for days afterward and 
his eyes would be fiery red. Grant 
Wood never captured that part of 
threshing.”
Carl Hamilton, In No Time At All
62 THE PALIMPSEST
Above: Threshers at George Hollingsworth farm, 
Sandyville, Iowa. Upper left: Stacking straw, Al Treliar 
(Trealiar?) farm, 1915 Left: Belts connecting the engine 
and separator were often a hundred feet or more. Date 
and location unknown.
SUMMER 1990 63
“We were awakened at dawn bv
the ringing beat of the iron mauls
as Frank and David drove the
stakes to hold the power to the
ground. The rattle of trace chains,
the clash of iron rods, the clang of
steel bars, intermixed with the
laughter of the men, came sharply
through the frosty air, and the
smell of sizzling sausage from the
kitchen warned us that our busv
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mother was hurrying the breakfast 
forward. . . .  I had a sense of being 
awakened into a romantic new 
world, a world of heroic action.”
Hamlin Garland, A Son of the Middle Border
“The machines we used could 
knock out four thousand bushels of 
oats a day. The big steam engine 
could pull the hind end off 
creation.”
James Hearst, Time Like a Furrow
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Clockwise, from upper left: Farm women and children, 1924; boy on bicycle 
(date & location unknown); Meservey farms, circa 1928; threshing rig on 
road near Wellman, 1912.
Tuesday 28 
[Sept 1869]
finish threshing, 128 
bu. wheat & 180 oi 
oats. I bake every 
thing, have 3 men to 
breakfast, 14 to dinner 
& 13 to supper & Mrs.
Snell, she stavs all✓
night. Henry is better.
I am also tired
Diarv entry 
Emily Hawley Gillespie 
“A Secret to Be Burned 
Judy Nolte Lensink, ed.
“Many threshing rings are in operation. They 
average about five of them threshing and one 
moving on the road.’
Years of Struggle: The Farm Diary of 
Elmer G. Powers, 1931-1936 
H. Roger Grant and L. Edward Purcell, eds.
64 THE PALIMPSEST
“It wouldn’t be a threshing job 
without a small boy or two around 
all the time.’’
Years of Struggle: The Farm Diary of 
Elmer G. Powers, 1931-1936
H. Roger Grant and 
L. Edward Purcell, eds.
V
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“There were some memorable 
times—the day I put a bouquet of 
nasturtiums on the table and the 
crew joker passed them around the 
table.’’
Mrs. Raymond Sayre 
“Women’s Role in Threshing
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“Day after day, therefore, father or the hired man shouldered a fork, and
Went to help thresh. ” Hamlin Garland, A Son of the Middle Border
SUMMER 1990 65
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“Within the shelter 
of the towering stack 
I lie in shadow, blinking at the 
light . . .
. . .  It is so sweet 
To lie here, taskless, dumb and rapt 
With wordless weight of reminiscent 
scenes and sounds,
Weight of unremembered millions 
of autumns.”
Hamlin Garland 
“In Stacking-Time”
66 THE PALIMPSEST
SUMMER 1990 67
Hand-built stravvstacks in northeastern Iowa, 1895.
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Threshing Day

Miller, Henry A

12 THE PALIMPSEST
METHODIST 
REVIVAL MEETING
Remembering a Boyhood Experience in 1865
by Henry A. Miller
N THE EARLY SPRING of 1865 a 
religious “revival” was held at the Meth­
odist Church in Unionville, Iowa. Such 
revivals in those days were usually rather 
frenzied affairs and this was one of that kind. I 
attended it, and was caught by the spirit, and 
“got religion” myself. I had a bad case. It has 
always been my nature to do everything I do 
with all my might. I have always played ball or 
marbles, or gone swimming, or fought, or 
cussed, enthusiastically. Even in my illnesses 
(when I had any) I had them bad. When I had 
the measles in ’62 I was sick a month longer 
than any other member of the family. When I 
had the mumps, in the wet and muddy spring 
of ’63, I had them on both sides at once and had 
them bad. I fell down on a slippery plank into 
the mud while I had the mumps and I thought 
there could be nothing more painful than to fall 
down on a slippery plank into the mud when 
you have the mumps on both sides.
So when the big revival began in the Meth­
odist Church I fell into grace, and I fell hard. 
Under the earnest exhortations of Reverend 
Orr (who was really a fine man) I became “con­
victed” of my sins and felt sure that I was on the 
straight road to Hell. I remembered that I had 
done about everything bad that a small boy 
should not do. If I did not repent and turn over 
a new leaf I was surely a “goner.” Merely 
repenting and turning over a new leaf was not 
all that was necessarv, either. I would have toJ *
make a public confession and join the church. 
As I listened to the preacher, I realized the 
imminence of my impending doom. What if 1 
should die before reaching home that night? 
And the preacher said I stood a good chance of 
doing that very thing; for it happened that way 
to many sinners. What would become of me in
such a case? I shuddered to think of it.
My past life confronted me in memory, 
ominously. Those watermelons I had stolen! 
Those chickens we boys had “confiscated” and 
fried in the woods while we were “soldiering”! 
And my cussing! And those window panes Bill 
Bailey and I had broken out of the Baptist 
Church! I tried to think that Bill had probably 
suggested that enterprise, but I could not get 
much comfort out of that thought; for my belief 
in the doctrines of free moral agency and
“everv fellow for himself convinced me that it*
would do no good to lay that job onto Bill. Had 
not every broken pane of glass opened another 
avenue to perdition? And perdition was not 
described by the preacher as simply a mental 
condition after death. If it had been, I think I 
would have been willing to take a chance for 
a while longer. Bodily resurrection was 
preached, and the nnregenerate would be lit- 
erallv roasted in Hell over a hot fire — hotter 
than any fire I had ever seen. And that fire 
would never go out either, or even die down a 
little. I wouldn’t have a chance to get out of it 
even for a little while and put a wet rag on the 
burned places (as I had done when I burned my 
hand so bad trying to mold some hot lead into a 
ferrule around the handle of a dirk-knife that 
had been made for me out of a file at the 
blacksmith shop). No, 1 would just keep on 
burning, forever and ever. And forever was a 
long time. I had never realized before what a 
long time forever would be. The brimstone 
would be furnished by the Devil, and he had 
unlimited supplies. Brimstone was supposed 
to make a hotter fire than any other fuel. Gas­
oline hadn’t been heard of then, nor acetvlene* /
gas, nor the electric torch. The Standard Oil 
Company had not been invented then, or I
SPRING 1990 13
suppose the Devil would have made arrange­
ments for a rebate on the price of gasoline in 
large quantities.
As I listened to the preacher, I became 
almost frantic about the risk I had been taking 
in leading my ungodly life and resolved to 
make a change at once. People were shouting, 
singing and exhorting all around me. Every 
little while some good brother or sister, fully 
satisfied that he or she was on the right track, 
would jump up and exhort those who were 
about to be lost to come forward at once. Time 
was precious: “Come right now, for it may be 
everlastingly too late in another minute. 
Strike while the iron is hot, was their motto; 
and I became satisfied that they had the right 
viewpoint.
A
ROUND the platform on which the
pulpit stood was a black walnut 
bench, about ten inches wide and 
eighteen inches high. It was called 
the “mercy seat/ and it was the place where 
sinners could go and kneel down and get freed 
from the clutch of the Devil. I didn’t know 
whether there were any other mercy seats in 
the world. Probably not, for the Baptist 
Church didn’t have any. But that didn’t signify 
much, for the Baptists were mostly Democrats 
and would go to Hell anyhow. But from the way 
folks were crowding around the mercy seat in 
front of me, taking turns for it like men waiting 
for a shave in a barber shop, I thought it likely 
that there were no other mercy seats in the 
world outside of that one in Unionville, Iowa.
After the sinners had remained on the mercv✓
seat awhile, thev would be led back to a bench 
reserved for them exclusively and another lot 
would go forward, accompanied by the singing 
and shouting of the congregation. The 
preacher had said that salvation was free, and I 
could see that the reserved seat was free. I was 
very glad of that; for if there had been any 
charge I certainly would have been lost, for I 
was broke.
Being so little, I didn’t have much show with 
the bigger and stouter sinners, but I watched 
my chance and edged in and put my head 
between mv hands on the black walnut bench
and confessed all my sins — that is, all that i✓
could think of on such short notice, for I may 
have left out a few small sins in my hurry. 
Occasionally, a good old sister would come 
along and put her soft, motherly hand on my 
head and ask me if I had “seen the light yet? 
“No, it’s all dark here, I would murmur. 
“You haven’t given everything up then, my 
dear. You must just let everything go and give 
it all to the Lord. If you do you will see a great 
light and you will know that you are saved.’
I couldn’t understand what she meant by 
“letting everything go, for I didn’t have any­
thing to let go that I thought the Lord could 
possibly want. And it wasn’t the Lord anyhow 
that I was interested in. It was the Devil that I 
was trying to get away from, and that bake- 
oven he was operating. The Lord, I had under­
stood, was kind-hearted and would listen to 
reason. But the Devil was not to be put oft with 
any sort of argument. Why crowding around 
that mercy seat would get me shut of the Devil 
I could not make out, but the preacher had said 
it would work and I was willing to try anything 
once. But no great light would come to me, 
however much I tried to “let everything go.” 
I finally concluded that no one could be 
expected to see a great light with his head 
between his hands on a black walnut bench, 
and maybe the light of the big coal-oil lamps at 
the pulpit would do. They certainly gave a 
great deal better light than the tallow dips we 
had at home. So I raised my head from between
mv hands and went back to the reserved seat*
and took my place among the other brands 
plucked from the burning, while the stentorian 
voice of the self-appointed leader of the singers 
struck up, as another relay of penitents went 
forward:
O, won’t you go long, 
we re purty nigh there,
We’re gatherin’ heavenly man-na
N
OW, I DON’T MEAN to speak
irreverently of religion. Indeed, I 
am not doing that. I am just relating 
an incident that took place during a 
meeting that seemed more an attack of 
religious hysteria than a revival of deep 
religious feeling. Religion so acquired may be a 
good thing for some people, and no doubt there
14 THE PALIMPSEST
are a few who are improved by it. But my 
observation has been that most of the converts 
secured under the stress of such excitement do 
not stick very long and soon backslide. Those 
who do stick and remain consistently faithful to 
the teachings of their religion were probably 
good enough for all practical purposes anyhow.
As for me, I expect that almost any change 
would have been a good thing, for there was 
room for improvement. I understood that from 
that time on I was to go to Sunday School 
regularly and also to preaching once in a while; 
and that it would not be right any longer to steal 
watermelons or chickens, or to break window 
lights out of a church, or fight or cuss, or play 
marbles for keeps, for that would be gambling. 
I must not play hooky and go swimming while I 
was supposed to be in school, nor “ring 
switches for school-marms so they couldn’t 
administer corporal punishment to needy 
pupils.
I believe my “conversion’ did improve my 
general conduct for some months, and it 
helped the other boys who got religion too — 
some of them. A lot of them joined the church, 
before the revival closed like a fire burns out for 
want of fuel. Bill Bailey became fairly docile 
and Sam Crow did not play marbles for keeps 
for some time. For that change in Sam I felt 
truly thankful, for Sam was a much better
IN 1935 Henry A. Miller, the 
author of this piece, wrote, “If 
this somewhat crude and 
incomplete account can convey 
. . . something of a picture of 
the simple, rugged life of those 
days, I will he satisfied and will 
feel repaid for my effort.”
Miller was born in 1854 in 
Wisconsin and the family 
moved when he was four to 
Unionville, Iowa. His eight 
boyhood years in a southern 
Iowa border county were punc­
tuated by the Civil War, 
Fourth of July celebrations, 
revival meetings, and frontier 
farm work.
In 1866, after his father had 
left his mother, Miller was 
hound out to a printer in Lan-
player than I. In fact Sam was usually the 
owner of nearly all the marbles in the neigh­
borhood. Sam was bigger than I was and 
I believe he had been tougher. But I had 
not tried to compete with him, for I realized 
that I could never aspire to the heights of 
toughness that Sam Crow attained. I am sorry 
to be obliged to relate, however, that Sam did 
not hold out faithful very long; for in the follow­
ing summer he was caught red-handed by one 
of the older church members while he was 
skinning us boys playing for stakes; and, being 
called to account for his fall from grace, he 
excused himself by explaining that his church 
dues would soon have to be met and business in 
other lines was dull just then.
When one joined the Methodist Church in 
those days he was taken in on probation. That 
is, he was put on his good behavior for six 
months before being admitted to full mem­
bership. After that he could do pretty much as 
he pleased. Like being vaccinated for small­
pox, he should be able to stand a good deal of 
exposure to sin without catching the disease. 
Even if he did catch it, it would be only a slight 
case and not dangerous. I managed to behave 
fairly well for my period of probation and 
became a full-fledged member of the church in 
the fall. But I took it easy after that and felt 
reasonably natural again. □
caster, Missouri, where as a 12- 
year-old he went alone to make 
his way in the world. Later he 
courted and married Ella Mary 
Potter, and they lived in Lan­
caster for two decades. There 
Miller copuhlished the Lan­
caster Excelsior and held 
county office. He was an avid 
reader, musician, and gar­
dener. New technology fasci­
nated him. In his forties he 
studied law at home; in his six­
ties, Latin. His son recalled his 
father’s “abounding, whimsical 
sense of humor.” Miller himself 
admitted that he “ never 
seemed to meet a stranger.”
In 1921, Miller “wrote out a 
sort of history of his boyhood 
years. “Some members of my
family had asked me to do this 
several years earlier,” he 
wrote, “hut I hesitated to do so 
as I felt that the small events of 
my life were of no especial 
interest to anyone outside my 
own dear ones.” He expanded 
the manuscript twice more 
before he died in 1937. These 
memoirs, “Recollections of an 
Octogenarian, were later 
found in an attic, and both son 
Franklin Miller and grandson 
Franklin Miller, Jr. have 
worked to preserve and dis­
tribute them to relatives.
The account of a revival 
meeting is reprinted here with 
the permission of Franklin Mil­
ler, Jr., of Gambier, Ohio.
—The Editor
SPRING 1990 15


Methodist Revival Meeting: Remembering a Boyhood Experience in 1865

Bennett, Mary

For More Information, Consult These Source
Ihomas Davies, Shoots: A Guide to Your Family’s 
Photographic Heritage (Danbury, NH: Addison 
House, 1978).
Arlene H. Eakle, Photography Analysis (Salt Lake 
City, Utah: Family History World, 1976).
Julia Hirsch, Family Photographs: Content, Mean­
ing, and Effect (New York: Oxford University 
Press, 1981).
Laurence E. Keefe, Jr., and Dennis Inch, The Life 
of a Photograph (Boston: Focal Press, 1984).
Catherine Noren, The Way We Looked: The Mean­
ing and Magic of Family Photographs (New York:
Lodestar Books, 1982).
James M. Reilly, Care and Identification of 19th 
Century Photographic Prints (Rochester, NY: East­
man Kodak Company Publications, G-25, 1986).
Robert A. Weinstein and Larry Booth, Collection, 
Use, and Care of Historical Photographs 
(Nashville: American Association for State and 
Local History, 1977).
William Welling, Collectors’ Guide to Nineteenth- 
Century Photographs (New York: Collier Books, 
1976).
Tips on Handling and Labeling 
Historical Photographs by Mary Bennett
1. Always wash your hands or wear white 
cotton gloves when working with pho­
tographs. Never touch the print surface 
because skin oils and chemicals will perma­
nently damage the image.
2. Do not use tape or adhesives of any kind 
on the original photograph. The chemical 
composition may break down and permeate 
or discolor the photograph. Removing the 
adhesive, often impossible, may damage the 
image.
3. Do not use pen, ink, or felt-tip pens 
when labeling photographs or storage enve­
lopes. (Ink may bleed through. The pen s 
impression may “dent the image.) 4
4. Write in pencil on the storage envelope 
and on the back side of the print in the 
margins only. Faithfully copy any informa­
tion or identification that comes with the 
photo. Make some attempt to date the photo 
even if it is only an approximation, such as
circa 1900, or post-1920, or 1960s. It is also 
helpful to record the donor’s name on the 
envelope. Careful labeling will make the 
collection more convenient to use and more 
valuable for future use. Record all that is 
known about the photograph now; informa­
tion passed down orally may be lost or 
remembered inaccurately by future genera­
tions.
5. Writing with pencil on the backs of 
today’s commercially processed prints is 
nearly impossible because the paper is too 
slick. Try using a very soft pencil, with #1 
lead. If this doesn’t work, label only the 
storage envelope or album page and key it to 
the photograph by a short description.
For more detailed information, consult the 
sources listed above, especially those by 
Reilly and by Weinstein and Booth. Upcom­
ing Palimpsests will offer more tips on stor­
ing photographs, displaying photos in 
albums or frames, and storing negatives.
SPRING 1990 37


Tips on Handling and Labeling Historical Photographs

Bennetr, Mary

place? Would a formal parlor seem warmer and 
more homelike if people are in it? Perhaps the 
people are really the center of attention, with 
the furnishings of their home as mere back­
ground. One observation that supports this 
idea is the careful positioning of the people. 
They could not have been more clearly cen­
tered if they had been posed in a studio with 
props, and the adults seem placed to frame the 
children.
Conclusions
This photograph is a rich source of information 
about late Victorian furnishings and an artifact
that would be enormouslv useful in under- 
standing one’s own family or community. The 
dates and sources of most of the furnishings are 
clearly traceable through catalogs and identi­
fied photographs of Victorian parlors, of which 
there are hundreds. Yet it is the anomalies — 
the posing of the people, the inclusion of the 
children, the lack of chairs for visitors — that 
intrigue us. We might speculate that this pho­
tograph shows a family that has lately risen to 
middle-class status and still does not quite 
know what to do or how to act, but does realize 
that having lots of possessions, in the eyes of 
Victorian society, is indeed a 'good thing. O
Tips on Storing Negatives 
of Historical Photographs by Mary Bennett
In many respects, protecting the original 
negative is the most important step in the 
preservation of your photographs. If the 
negative is properly cared for, multiple cop­
ies of an image can be created long after the 
original photograph has deteriorated. Since 
color dyes are not permanent, one way to 
save an image before it fades is to make black 
and white prints from color negatives.
1. Store negatives separate from prints in 
archival envelopes or interleaved with rag 
paper. The emulsion side, which is the dull 
and non-reflective side of the negative, can 
be easily damaged. Handle negatives by the 
edges only as fingerprints can harm the deli­
cate chemical composition.
2. Glass plate negatives, in use from the 
1850s to the 1920s, require special attention 
and care. Handling should be kept to a mini­
mum due to the fragile nature of the glass 
and emulsion layer. Again, handle the glass 
plate negatives by the edges only and store
vertically in a sturdv archival box or metal* ^
drawers — not in stacks. Give the glass 
plates adequate support as the weight of the 
glass itself may cause the plates to crack. If
the glass is cracked or broken, use glass of 
the same size to ‘sandwich and support the 
negative, preventing further damage.
3. Nitrate-based film, introduced in the 
1890s and manufactured as recentlv as 1951, 
is dangerous because it is sometimes capable 
of spontaneous combustion. Remove nitrate 
negatives from the collection immediately as 
their chemical decomposition will seriously 
affect other items stored nearby. Nitric acid 
is formed as the chemicals break down, so 
store nitrate negatives in paper envelopes. 
Do not use plastic, which will trap the dan­
gerous gases.
4. In advanced stages of deterioration, the
nitrate negatives become brittle or warped
and the emulsion may tarnish or become*
iridescent. One can identify nitrate nega­
tives by trimming a strip of film from the 
edge and testing it. A lighted match close to 
the film will ignite it at once with an orange 
flame. Due to the flammable nature of
nitrate film, test any unmarked film before* /
storing it near other negatives or photos. 
Make prints or duplicate negatives as soon 
as possible. Kodak Professional Direct
130 THE PALIMPSEST
I
For more in fo rm ation , consult these sources
.
R. Barry Blackburn, ed., Art, Society, and Accomplish­
ments: A Treasury o f Artistic Homes, Social Life and 
Culture (Chicago: Blackburn Co., 1891). A collection of 
articles giving advice about room furnishings, table deco­
rations, parlor games, and interior decoration.
William Seale, The Tasteful Interlude: American Inte­
riors through the Camera’s Eye, 1860-1917, 2nd edition 
(Nashville: American Association of State and Local His­
tory, 1981). Dated photographs of Victorian rooms with 
descriptions and explanations of features and functions.
Henry T. W illiams and Mrs. C. S. Jones, Beautiful 
Homes, or Hints in House Furnishing, Vol. 4 in Williams*
Household Series (New York: Henry T. Williams, 1878). 
One of hundreds of furnishing guides and etiquette books 
published in the Victorian era.
Cail Caskey Winkler and Roger W. Moss, Victorian Inte­
rior Decoration: American Interiors, 1830-1900 (New
y h 11 and Co., 1986). Photographs and 
illustrations with detailed text outlining styles, colors, 
and materials used lor floors, windows, walls, and 
ceilings.
Additional useful sources for interpreting and caring for 
historical photographs appear in Parts 1 and 2 of this 
series, in the Spring and Summer Palimpsests.
Duplicating Film (SO-015) offers good 
results.
5. After 1935, film manufacturers began to 
mark or print “safety on the border of the 
negative. This “safety film is more stable 
than the flimsy nitrate-based films and can 
he stored without danger. Store these nega­
tives in sleeves made of triacetate, poly­
ester, polypropylene, or polyethylene, and 
label each sleeve. These archivally safe 
negative files are available in a variety of 
sizes suitable for 35 mm, 2lA", or 4" x 5" 
negatives. Strips of negatives can be placed 
in these sleeves to prevent curling or 
damage. Slides can be stored in a similar 
fashion and then housed vertically in file 
drawers or arranged in binders.
6. Make contact prints or enlargements 
from glass and film negatives that do not 
have prints available for viewing. These can 
be labeled to match the negatives, to sim­
plify the organizing or filing arrangement. 
Choose a printing paper with a medium con­
trast and a glossy surface.
If a negative is dirty, use professional film 
cleaner on the non-emulsion side. In the 
case of glass plate negatives, use distilled 
water and cotton balls on the glass surface 
hut take care to protect the emulsion side. 
Proceed with extreme caution when at­
tempting to clean photographic materials.
8. Any historical photo can be preserved if a 
copy negative is made. Archivists prefer to 
use 4" x 5" or large format sheet films, but 
good-quality negatives can also be made 
with Panatomic-X 35 mm film, which has a 
fine grain. Yellow and blue filters can be 
used when copying to enhance faded or 
spotted photographs. Glass can be carefully 
placed over the surface when copying if the 
photo is slightly rolled or curved.
9. As with all photographic materials, the 
storage environment is of primary impor­
tance. Constant temperature and humidity 
must be maintained in the storage area year 
round. Use a pencil, not ink or felt tip pens, 
for labeling materials. Avoid using rubber 
bands, paper clips, or adhesives on or near 
negatives. Do not store negatives in glassine 
sleeves or poor-quality plastics. Archival 
boxes or baked enamel filing cabinets are 
better than wooden or old cardboard boxes, 
which are acidic. You can prolong the life of 
these materials if you keep negatives and 
photographs away from ultraviolet light.
Archival storage materials are available from  Light 
Impressions, 439 Monroe Avenue, Rochester, NY 
14607, or at local photo supply stores. Be sure that 
storage sleeves are made o f the materials listed in 
Tip #5.
The next issue will oiler tips on displaying photos in 
albums or frames.
FALL 1990 131


Tips on Storing Negatives of Historical Photographs

Horton, Loren N

Interpreting the Image: How to Understand Historical Photographs

Sometimes an imprint on the hack identifies the pho­
tographer and location. (Caution: Printed cards could he 
purchased in hulk lot, and a photographer might use up 
leftover card stock after moving to a new town or sell 
leftover card stock to another photographer.) Celebrities 
cartes de visite were mass produced and used much as 
today s fan mail photographs. Family albums, with slotted 
pages, might contain celebrity images (such as Jenny 
Lind, U.S. Grant, Tom Thumb) that came with the album 
or were purchased separately. Cartes de visite with a 
federal tax stamp on the hack were produced between
September 1, 1864 and August 1, 1866, when the govern­
ment was raising revenue to pay for the Civil War.
Cabinet Card (1866-1890s)
Also albumen prints, they supplanted the carte-de-visite 
in popularity. Literally millions were produced. Typical 
size is 33/4" X SV2 ", mounted on 4lA" X 6 V2 " cards. Manv 
advertise a photographer on the bottom and back (but the 
same cautions about leftover card stock hold true). Slotted 
albums were also available, and during the transition 
some albums were made with slots for both sizes.
For more information, consult these sources
Bloomingdale s Illustrated 1886 Catalog (Mineola, New 
York: Reprinted by Dover Publications, 1988).
Jane A. Farrell, “Clothing for Adults in Iow'a, 1850-1899,’ 
Annals of Iowa (3rd ser.) 46:2 (Fall 1981), 100-20. (Pho­
tographs, drawings, and text provide specific information 
about styles, ornamentation, and colors of clothing worn 
by Iowa men and women.)
Alison Gernsheim, Victorian and Edwardian Fashion: A 
Photographic Survey (New York: Dover, 1963, 1981). 
Family photographs can be compared to more than 235 
photographs dated from 1845 to 1914.)
Patricia E. Horridge, Diane E. Smathers, and Diane L.
Vaehon, Dating Costumes: A Check List Method 
(Nashville: American Association for State and Local His­
tory, 1977), Technical Leaflet No. 102.
Note: Information about men’s clothing is sparse in all of 
these references. Only the Gernsheim book is much help, 
and the men shown in identified photographs are mostly 
upper-class individuals dressed in high style. This does 
not necessarily help us identify men’s clothing in the 
Midwest, although it may help.
Additional sources useful for interpreting and caring for 
historical photographs are listed in the Spring 1990 Pal­
impsest, part 1 of this series.
Tips on Storing Historical Photographs
by Mary Bennett
1. To prolong the life of your photographs, 
maintain constant temperature and humid­
ity in a clean storage area year round. Don’t 
store photos in basements or attics. Aim for a 
cool, dry, and consistent environment.
2. Separate prints from each other by plac­
ing them in acid-free paper envelopes or 
triacetate sleeves, with print surface away 
from gummed seams.
3. Do not use brown kraft envelopes, glass- 
ine sleeves, colored paper (because of the 
dyes), or vinyl or plastic-based materials that 
contain polyvinyl chloride. Acidic paper will 
become brittle with age and speed the dete­
rioration of images. Cheaper plastics will 
often cause fading and sticking.
4. Interleaf albums or large groups of pho­
tos with 100 percent rag paper. Wrap over­
sized photos in archival paper and store them 
flat in acid-free boxes. Support tom or fragile
photos with acid-free matte board. Make copy 
negatives of any damaged photos.
5. Store prints vertically in acid-free storage 
boxes or metal cabinets with baked-on 
enamel finishes. Wood boxes or cabinets 
(even if painted) and cardboard release 
fumes that will accelerate the aging process.
6. Don’t use rubber bands, paper clips, 
adhesive tape, or pens. They damage prints.
7. Always wash your hands or wear white 
cotton gloves when working with pho­
tographs. Never touch the print or negative 
surface because skin oils and chemicals (such 
as sulphur) will cause permanent damage.
Sources for archival materials: Light Impressions (439 
Monroe Avenue, Rochester, NY 14607) and Hollinger 
Corporation (PO Box 6185, Arlington, VA 22206).
The next two issues will offer tips on storing negatives 
and displaying photos in albums or frames.
SUMMER 1990 93


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