From the Vault — Deaccession Discoveries (1973.218 & 1959.1041)

The Society of American Archivists defines deaccessioning as “the process by which an archives, museum, or library permanently removes accessioned materials from its holdings.” This process is an important part of collections care, and we periodically review the collection to ensure our holdings align with the collecting scope outlined in our collections policy. As an institution that has collected for almost 100 years, we have acquired a large amount of material, not all of which is suited to our mission.

The Curatorial Staff approaches deaccessioning with great care, reviewing each item individually. In addition to examining the object in person, we consult both paper and digital records to assess its provenance, maker, donor, exhibition history, duplicate status, and previous expert assessments. We review any scrap of information that may reveal the object’s importance and its place within the Museum’s collection.

During a recent textile review session, we came across two garments recommended for deaccession by a textile expert and prior staff. Looking closely, we found that these dresses are more significant than previously thought. One dress, 1973.218, had been recommended for deaccession because it did not appear to have any American maritime connections. When we opened the box, we were surprised to see a vibrant purple dress in spectacular condition with the Parisian maker’s original tags: “ROBES & CONFECTIONS / R. LHOPITEAU / 41. RUE VIVIENNE.41.” As we examined the three-piece garment, we found that the ribbing in the bodice and jacket was made of whale baleen. Further research in Le Moniteur de la Mode (The Fashion Monitor) revealed that the dress was likely made by Mademoiselle Pauline Conter of Lhopiteau House, around 1860.

   

Whale baleen and bone, both sometimes referred to as “whalebone,” were harvested from filter-feeding whales like bowheads and right whales. These whales use baleen—long, bristly strips in their mouths—to filter their food from the water. Baleen strips, known as “plates,” are made of keratin, just like your fingernails and hair. Because of its sturdiness and flexibility, baleen was an excellent material for garment structure and was commonly used in clothing and accessories from the late 16th to the early 20th century. Baleen could be found in corsets, bodices, skirts, umbrellas, buggy whips, boxes, and other items.

Although the Museum has an extensive collection of materials related to the whaling industry, including many examples of baleen, we have surprisingly few garments with baleen boning. The dress’s original 1970s catalog record was minimal, and there was no mention of the baleen. This discovery changed our understanding of the object. The baleen, paired with the dress’s significance as a lens into a global maritime economy, helped us decide the dress should remain in the collection.

A later textile-focused session highlighted another dress recommended for deaccession. This dress, 1959.1041, is an 1894 wedding dress worn by the donor’s aunt. The records show no other information or connection to our collecting scope. As with the Parisian dress, a closer look revealed baleen used in the bodice. Now we can confidently say we have two garments with baleen boning in the collection.

As you can see, deaccessioning is not only about refining our collection. It also helps us sharpen our understanding of objects, uncover new stories and information, and improve catalog records. Most importantly, it can reveal when an object should stay in the collection. Stay tuned for more deaccessioning tales later this month!

-Lydia Downs, Collections Management Associate & Deaccession Specialist

From the Vault — Menu from the R.M.S CARPATHIA, April 18, 1912 (2020.39.7210)

The collection at Mystic Seaport Museum contains over 200 menus from passenger liners and other historic vessels, revealing a glimpse into the culinary side of life at sea. One menu in the collection, which might look ordinary at first glance, stands out when you notice the ship’s name and the date: R.M.S. Carpathia, April 18, 1912.

Just days earlier, in the early morning hours of April 15, Carpathia, a transatlantic passenger steamship operated by Cunard Line, was en route from New York City to Fiume, Austria-Hungary, when the crew received distress signals from the R.M.S. Titanic. Captain Arthur Rostron ordered the vessel to make for Titanic’s last reported position at full speed. Upon arrival, Carpathia, the first ship on the scene, found that Titanic had already vanished beneath the icy waves, leaving survivors adrift in partially filled lifeboats or clinging to floating debris.

The crew of Carpathia wasted no time bringing more than 700 survivors on board. There was little room for so many unexpected passengers, and many had to find places to rest in the dining saloons and on the decks. Some Carpathia passengers, eager to be of assistance, gave up their cabins for the survivors. One survivor, Ruth Blanchard, recalled, “The Carpathia passengers were wonderful. They couldn’t do enough for us.”

Captain Rostron decided to return the Titanic survivors to New York City, their intended destination. After navigating the ice fields, Carpathia weathered severe thunderstorms, dense fog, and, finally, pouring rain as it made its way into New York, where family members and a crowd of reporters anxiously awaited the survivors.

This menu represents one of the last meals served aboard Carpathia, before the survivors disembarked. Perhaps some of them savored the offerings listed on the menu, from pigeon and roast gosling to fried parsnips and, ironically, ice cream for dessert.

Follow this link to explore an interactive version of Carpathia’s April 18, 1912 menu and learn more about some of the foods available as the ship steamed its way into New York Harbor.

The Carpathia menu and many other incredible artifacts related to the Titanic and other ocean liners were generously donated by Linda Witherill in 2020.

Krystal Rose, Director of Collections & Curatorial Affairs

From the Vault–Uniform of Golden 13 Officer Frank Sublett, Jr. (2001.16.1)

Today, Juneteenth, is an important celebration and day of remembrance, commemorating the end of slavery in the United States. As we reflect on the shortcomings of American history, stories of fortitude and empowerment are resounding, as displayed in the recent Museum exhibit Entwined. The Collections Research Center vault is also home to belongings of significance to the desegregation of the United States Navy.

In 1893, the U.S. government imposed a segregation-based restriction on the Navy and created the Messman’s Branch. From 1919 to 1932, Black sailors were prohibited from enlisting entirely. While enlistment resumed, Black sailors who joined the U.S. Navy faced significant segregation, limited to positions in the Messman’s and Steward’s Branches. On land and at sea, living quarters were separate and often disparate in quality. In 1941, F.D.R. signed an executive order prohibiting racial and ethnic discrimination in the defense industry. The following year, in response to protests from the Civil Rights movement leaders of the time, Black sailors were allowed to enlist for general service positions. In 1944, pressure from Eleanor Roosevelt—as evidenced in memoranda in the Museum’s collections—and Naval Secretary Adlai Stevenson led to the formation of the first class of Naval officer training courses opened to Black sailors.

Frank Sublett’s uniform, 2001.16.1.

Sixteen Black sailors met at Camp Robert Smalls in Illinois to complete their training, but the usual 16-week course had been condensed to 8. The sailors were given half the amount of time allotted to white sailors. Determined to not let this bar them from rightful positions, they stayed up through the night, helping one another with their weaknesses. Each one of the 16 men scored extremely highly on their tests. Unfortunately, this success was met with disbelief, then resistance, from those higher in the chain of command, leading to a forced retest. Once again, this group achieved unprecedented high scores. Only 13 of the sailors were commissioned as officers with no official explanation as to why. These men are remembered in history as the Golden 13. Here at the Museum, we have the uniform of Golden 13 officer Frank Sublett, Jr., who, like the rest of the 12, served in WWII. He can be seen wearing the uniform in this photograph. Sublett is in the top row at far right.

 

Another member of the Golden 13, James Edward Hair, joined the crew of the U.S.S. Mason (DE 529), the first predominantly Black naval combat vessel to serve overseas. The men of the Mason had to face racist attacks from fellow Americans, while the attacks of World War II continued. One of the many examples of these men’s bravery is the story of N.Y. Convoy 119. A severe storm hit this convoy, leaving the Mason with significant hull damage. Other escort vessels turned away, unable to fulfill their duties in this mission. The crew repaired a cracked hull while still at sea, escorted vessels to shore, and turned back again to retrieve stragglers. A commendation was written, to be awarded at the close of the war, but was “lost”. No formal recognition was given to these men until the 1990s, after years of advocacy by members and supporters, including James W. Graham, Gordon Buchanan, Barbara Graham, and Lorenzo DuFau. By this time, many of the sailors and their loved ones had passed. The Museum holds a collection of U.S.S. Mason materials and an oral history, thanks to James and Barbara Graham, including the patch pictured here.

USS MASON patch.

This Juneteenth, we recognize the resilience of Black sailors in the American Navy and their perseverance, both domestically and overseas, by sharing a seldom-discussed story of an important Civil Rights battle. Help celebrate by sharing the story of the Golden 13 and U.S.S. Mason, and of your own communities, ancestors, and inspirations of Black resilience. Happy Juneteenth.

This week’s From the Vault is brought to you by Makenzie Metivier, Collections Assistant and Special Collections Cataloger.

Last week’s article on Gloria Hollister was by Jenny Carroll, General Collections Cataloger. 

Previous stories on the Rossie Mill commemorative velvet,  the pearl button mussel shell, and John Palmer’s pocket journal were by Krystal Rose, Director of Collections & Curatorial Affairs. 

 

From the Vault–Photograph of Gloria Hollister (2023.49)

Today we celebrate the 126th birthday of ichthyologist and conservationist, Gloria Hollister, who was born on June 11, 1900. As a child, Hollister dreamt of being a scientist, at one point even repurposing an oil can to use as a diving helmet to study what lay at the bottom of the Mahwah River. In 1924, Hollister graduated from Connecticut College, then Connecticut College for Women, with a B.S. in Zoology; a year later, she acquired an M.S. in Zoology from Columbia University.

In 1928, Hollister was offered the opportunity of a lifetime, one that would harken back to her childhood dives. Hollister was hired as a research associate under William Beebe, who is now considered one of the founders of the field of ecology. Beebe sought to document deep-sea creatures as they had never been before. The Bathysphere, a first of its kind deep-sea submersible designed by Otis Barton, would allow deep-sea creatures to finally be observed in their natural habitat.

As part of her role during the Bathysphere project, Hollister acted as a transcriber. Communicating with Hollister via telephone wire, Beebe and Barton would relay what they were observed from the Bathysphere back to the surface. Hollister additionally studied the bone structure of fish and other sea creatures, even refining the technique of “clearing and staining” specimens which rendered the skin, flesh, and internal organs of fish transparent, allowing for easier study of their skeletons.

In Gloria Hollister’s personal papers, now at the Library of Congress, she wrote about the Bathysphere,  “It is the desire of my life, at present, to descend in this ball and see with my eyes and not my imagination. There is no reason why I should not, I am quite independent…” (May 31, Box 2, Gloria Hollister Anable, Manuscript Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.).

On June 11, 1930 – her 30th birthday – she got her wish. About her first dive, Hollister recalled:

We watched a school of colorless shrimps pass in the distance and a startled carangid-like fish as he butted savagely against the window and darted away into blue space. It was difficult to believe that these creatures and hundreds of others could exist in this world of strained sunlight, constant cold, and enormous pressure. (Hollister, Gloria. Bulletin of the New York Zoological Society. “Telephoning to Davy Jones’ Locker, Log of the Bathysphere Dives.” November-December 1930)

Hollister would dive twice more in the Bathysphere, descending to 1,000 feet in 1932 and 1,208 feet in 1934, each time setting the record for the deepest dive completed by a woman. In this photograph in our collection, accession number 2023.49, Hollister is shown sitting inside the Bathysphere onboard the Ready in 1934, reaching out to her terrier, Trumps.

2023.49: Photograph of Gloria Hollister in the BATHYSPHERE.

In her later life, Hollister turned her efforts towards conservation. In the 1950s, she formed the Mianus River Gorge Conservation Committee to protect the ecological diversity of the gorge. The Mianus River Gorge became the first land acquisition of the non-profit The Nature Conservancy, and the first National Natural Landmark designated by the Department of the Interior. Though she may not be a household name, Gloria Hollister’s legacy is visible throughout the marine sciences and conservation fields, and her impact as a female scientist will continue to pave the way for generations of women.

-Jenny Carroll, General Collections Cataloger

From the Vault–The 1,000,000th Piece of Velvet from the Rossie Velvet Mill (1978.3)

This week’s From the Vault is tied to the origins of the “vault” itself. As many of you know, our collections of art, objects, manuscripts, ship plans, photographs, and more are housed across the street from the main campus, within high-security rooms, or “vaults,” in the historic mill building. Today, inside the mill, you’ll find shelf after shelf of meticulously organized objects that reflect American maritime material culture, but in the spring of 1898, it was bustling with looms and workers during its early days as the Rossie Velvet Mill. 

The Mill was founded by the Rossie family of Germany (who were known for operating textile mills there), with financial backing from the Mystic Industrial Corporation. Two of the Rossie sons, John and Ernest, served as general managers. The mill began operations with 100 employees and grew to between 500 and 600 workers at the height of production in the 1920s. The company played a significant role in Mystic’s economic recovery following the decline of the shipbuilding industry in the early twentieth century. 

Velvet “Piece No. 1000000” (1978.3), beautifully folded and framed, was acquired by the Museum curator in 1977 for $38. The company keepsake, featuring elegant gold lettering, reads: “DELIVERED FROM LOOM No. 55, ON MAY 28TH 1913, IN THE MYSTIC MILL OF THE ROSSIE VELVET COMPANY, WHICH COMMENCED OPERATION IN 1898.” During a recent condition report, Collections Manager Chris White discovered an additional label indicating that the color is “Shade 191.” 

Velvet produced at the Rossie Mill was renowned for its superior quality, particularly during the Rossie brothers’ leadership. This reputation was achieved in part through the company’s practice of limiting the number of looms assigned to each weaver. An innovator in textile manufacturing, the company was among the earliest producers of spot-resistant velvet and also experimented with nylon and crush-resistant velvets. 

Although it may not be immediately apparent, every piece of velvet produced at the mill was deeply connected to the maritime world. Dyes were shipped from Europe, while other supplies arrived by coastal schooner and barge. The industry also left its mark on the local marine environment. When dye baths were no longer usable, their contents were dumped into the Mystic River estuary. In an oral history interview in our collection, a resident remarked that it “colored all the clams out there.” 

The Rossie Velvet Mill ceased production in 1958, but you can learn more about the company and the region’s textile manufacturing history this summer in Luxe CT: Velvet Mills to Modern Runways at the Mystic Museum of Art. The exhibition features this piece of velvet alongside other artifacts and photographs from Mystic Seaport Museum. 

-Krystal Rose, Director of Collections & Curatorial Affairs

From the Vault–“Holy Shell” (2026.2.3 & 2026.2.3.1)

Two summers ago, while sorting through about thirty boxes of uncatalogued shell collections from the CSR basement, one of our summer interns came across this unusual shell with perfectly punched holes. The shell had no associated number, donor, or provenance, but luckily our friend Jim Carlton at Williams-Mystic helped identify this “holy” bivalve as a freshwater mussel shell, likely from the family Unionidae, whose neatly punched holes are remnants of its former life in the pearl button industry. In freshwater, certain types of clams are called “mussels,” which are not related to edible sea mussels. 

2026.2.3 Pearl button mussel.

Pearl button production was a thriving industry in the early 1900s, particularly along the inland waterways of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. One town in particular, Muscatine, Iowa, became the center of the industry, producing billions of pearl buttons. Photographs from the turn of the century show roads leading to button factories layered with thousands of shells just like this one. 

2025.55: Postcard showing “Shell fishing on the Mississippi, Muscatine, Iowa.”

This postcard in our collection, 2025.55, shows mussel fishermen, known as “clammers,” working from small boats using a contraption called a crowfoot bar to gather mussels. Lines fitted with specialized crowfoot hooks were suspended from the bar and dragged along the river bottom. When the hooks encountered an open mussel, the shell would snap shut around them. Clammers also used scissor forks or shell tongs and sometimes waded through the river searching for mussels with their feet, a technique known as “polly wogging.” 

Once the mussels were harvested, cleaned, and the shells separated, the shells were sometimes sent to small cutting shops where workers cut circular “blanks” using specialized shell-cutting saws. These saws were sprayed with water during cutting to reduce heat and dust. Larger factories handled every stage of production, from cleaning shells and cutting blanks to finishing the buttons. Many finishing tasks, including polishing and decorative work, were carried out by women. 

Carefully mounted onto button cards decorated with company names like U.S. Button, Hawkeye, and American Maid, what were once thriving bivalves on the river bottom traveled around the world as lustrous, beautifully designed buttons. 

The pearl button industry along America’s inland waterways began to decline in the 1930s and 1940s due to overharvesting, overseas competition, changing fashions, and the introduction of new materials like plastic. About a dozen mussel species were heavily harvested for button production, and many of them remain endangered today, facing ongoing threats from pollution and invasive species. 

While we may never know the exact origins of our shell, we are pleased to have it in the collection as a reminder of the once-thriving pearl button industry and the freshwater mussels that made it possible. You may even have mussel pearl buttons in your button box, especially if you have buttons passed down through the family! 

Learn more in this short video from Iowa PBS:https://www.pbs.org/video/national-pearl-button-museum-ifk4af/. 

-Krystal Rose, Director of Collections & Curatorial Affairs

From the Vault — John Palmer’s Pocket Journal, Collection 53

If you’ve had a chance to explore the new Fo’c’sle to Farmhouse exhibit in the Pilalas Lobby in the Thompson Exhibition Building, you may have noticed a very small journal filled with tiny, almost illegible notes that make you squint your eyes. Displayed in the case on the right, this pocket journal belonged to John Palmer (1757–1788) of Stonington.

John Palmer’s pocket journal.

Palmer enlisted in the 3rd Company of the 6th Connecticut Militia on May 5, 1775. He departed New London, Connecticut, for Boston on June 26, just days after the Battle of Bunker Hill on June 17, and arrived on June 30 to join American forces during the opening phase of the Siege of Boston. This little journal chronicles much of his experience from May through November 1775. Palmer’s entries describe skirmishes, cannon fire, and raids on British positions, along with a severe outbreak of dysentery, known at the time as the “bloody flux,” that swept through both British and American camps during the summer.

After serving in the Continental Army as part of Colonel Henry Babcock’s regiment at Newport, Rhode Island, he shifted to privateering. From 1777 to 1778, he served aboard the Stonington privateer Revenge. Palmer later served aboard merchant vessels out of Stonington and New London on West Indies trading voyages between 1779 and 1785. He died at the age of 31 in 1788 and is buried nearby in Stonington Cemetery.  

You can follow some of the events recorded in Palmer’s pocket journal by visiting the interactive Map of Events in John Palmer’s Pocket Diary. Then stop by and see the journal in person while it is on display this summer! 

Fun (and Slightly Confusing) Fact:

Researching the John Palmer Collection quickly revealed that Revolutionary-era Stonington had more than a few John and Jonathan Palmers running around. Our John Palmer and Jonathan Wait (or Wiatt) Palmer (1739–1782) both served in the 3rd Company of the 6th Connecticut. “Colonel” Jonathan Palmer Jr. (1747–1810) served in the 5th Company of Groton, as well as in the Stonington militia in 1775. Our library even holds a book analyzing a similar journal kept by him: Colonel Jonathan Palmer’s War Diary by Norman F. Boas, published in 1985. That diary, which was privately owned, sold at auction about ten years ago. To make things even more confusing, a fourth Palmer, Captain Jonathan Palmer (1720–1803), was the father of Colonel Palmer, and captain of the 6th Company of the Stonington militia.

Krystal Rose, Director of Collections & Curatorial Affairs

Charles Hervey Townshend’s Double Reflecting and Repeating Circle

In a recently completed review of over 3,000 Curatorial accession files, funded by a grant awarded by the Institute of Museum and Library Services, Museum staff discovered that we have a rare navigation instrument, a “Townshend Double Reflecting and Repeating Circle.” 

           

A reflecting circle is a device for measuring longitude that was more accurate than the sextant. It was developed in the 18th century in England and refined by French and German instrument makers in the first half of the 19th centuryHenri-Prudence Gambey (1787-1847) was the foremost precision instrument maker in France and made devices for physicists, astronomers, surveyors and navigators, among othersWhile the reflecting circle was not generally favored in England, on the Continent (and French navy) it was used well into the 1800s to measure large angles with great accuracy.  In the reflecting circle, mirrors were used to measure simultaneously the angular distance between two objects to establish longitude. 

Our instrument was made by Charles Hervey Townshend (1833-1904), both a ships’ captain and an inventorHisTownshend Double Reflecting and Repeating Circle, for which he was granted a patent in 1888, was a valuable aid to maritime navigation with respect to longitude and latitude.  With it one can sight three objects and measure two angular separations simultaneously, for example, two bright stars from the moon for the lunar longitude method, or three coastal landmarks for triangulation in coastal navigation. His experiments with oyster culture after he retired from the sea were of singular importance in the development of that industry.

Written by Dr. Paul Goodwin, IMLS Project Volunteer, 2024

 

Pop-Up Exhibit in the G.W. Blunt White Library: The Snow Baby’s Mother

In a recently completed review of over 3,000 Curatorial accession files, funded by a grant awarded by the Institute of Museum and Library Services, materials related to Josephine Diebitsch Peary (1863 – 1955) have been revealed. Josephine Diebitsch Peary, the focus of these cases, had previously been referenced in files and records as the wife of Admiral Robert E. Peary, a well-known American explorer whose Arctic accomplishments, including being the first to reach the North Pole (contested by some), are well documented and supported by Museum collection objects and manuscript materials. The information in the files recognizes Peary as a mother, author, and Arctic adventurer in her own right.

Objects in this pop-up exhibit are presented as examples of Arctic and Greenlandic culture. Most have never before been exhibited.  All are examples of objects mentioned in Diebitsch Peary’s books. 

       

Curated by Dr. Paul Goodwin, Project Volunteer, and Nancy Seager, Project Archivist, 2024

Fiddler : What’s In a Name?

Question: What’s in a Name? 

Answer:  Quite a bit, it turns out, as in the case of a prize vessel in the Museum’s watercraft collection, Fiddler (MSM #1959.1266) an early Buzzard’s Bay 15’ Class designed in 1898 by Nathanael G. Herreshoff. The Herreshoff name alone would call attention.  

In a recently completed review of over 4,000 Curatorial accession files, funded by a grant awarded by the Institute of Museum and Library Services, Fiddler’s file raised a question. Every file for every collection object includes a document transferring legal ownership to the Museum and for Fiddler naturally included a physical description as well as known provenance. Additionally, almost as an afterthought, the owner added a single sentence, stating that Fiddler was raced in the early 1900’s by his mother, a name omitted. Obviously important to the history of the vessel and necessary to provide as complete a record as possible, the omission could not stand. In museum-speak, this is called ‘pulling on the string.’   

Research quickly recognized Caroline Miller Dabney, mother of the donor as the woman who raced Fiddler to victory with her ‘petticoat crew’ in women’s racing regattas in the waters of Buzzards Bay, 1901-1906. 

Contemporary newspapers accounts of races in the Bay also listed the Herreshoff 25’ Terrapin, raced by her father, Lewis S. Dabney, often winning on the same day! 


MSM 1960.348 shows Fiddler, number E-11, skippered by Miss Caroline Dabney and her all-women crew. The Herreshoff 15 was a one design class with a knockabout rig, 24’ x 15’ x 6’9” x 2’3”The Buzzards Bay 15 Class were delivered to members of the Beverly Yacht Club in Marion, Massachusetts, for the summer of the racing season of 1899They were known as the E-Class at the Beverly Yacht ClubPrinted along the top edge of the print:  “Miss Caroline Dabney racing with her “petticoat crew”, 1901 – 1903.   

Further pulling on the Dabney string played out not only with rewarding connections between Fiddler and women in the world of racing and yachting but also to other Dabney family members and further links within the Museum collection.  And unexpectedly, a final tug revealed ties between the Dabney family name and the far-flung history of American whaling, a subject immanently well suited for further research in Museum resources; Records of the Holmes’ Shipyard, Manuscripts Collection 46, Dabney & Cunningham; the Kermit Family Collection, Manuscripts Collection 68, Dabney, John B.; the Records of N. & W.W. Billings, Manuscripts Collection 233, Dabney, C.H. and Dabney, Charles W.. 

 To this day, the Dabney family is credited with a cultural and historical heritage still visible on the island through publications and online by organizations such as the Portuguese Historical Museum (portuguesemuseum.org), the Massachusetts Historical Society (the Dabney family papers, diaries and letters), the American-Portuguese Genealogical and Historical Society, Inc., and the Dabney’s House Museum run by the Regional Government of Azores, in Faial. The first U.S. consulate was established in the Azores in 1795 by George Washington and from 1806 – 1892 that diplomatic post was headed by three generations of the Dabney family. In 1806, John Bass Dabney of Boston was appointed Consul by President Thomas Jefferson and settled in Faial (Fayal), where he built the estate “Bagatelle” (the name of a Herreshoff yacht as well, owned by George Dabney). Eight Dabney-owned vessels and a chandlery promoted commerce between the Azores and the East Coast, even providing support to vessels during the Civil War.  

 While pulling on this particular string may not be completely finished, the file for Fiddler now incorporates new information, extended links and broader context and information about Caroline Miller Dabney Parker.   

To that point: “History can never be truthfully presented if the presentation is purely emotional. It can never be truthfully or usefully presented unless profound research, patient laborious, painstaking, has preceded the presentation.” So said Theodore Roosevelt. 

Written by Nancy Seager, Project Archivist, 2024

 

 

 

Curatorial Files Centennial Decade Preservation & Access Project

The Curatorial Files Centennial Decade Preservation and Access Project at Mystic Seaport Museum, funded by the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) 2020-2024, was an initiative aimed at preserving and making accessible at-risk primary source materials and artifacts that had been inadvertently hidden for decades within the Museum’s Curatorial accession files.

The files, dating back to 1930, house an extraordinary and significant body of material documenting the curatorial holdings of America’s largest maritime museum. The materials within these files, and the extensive collection they represent, play a crucial role in enhancing our understanding and appreciation of the American maritime experience. The project focused on the files from 1930 to 1960, a period during which professional collections management and archival staffing at the Museum were limited.

As the project progressed, a number of manuscripts but very few artifacts were discovered. However, it successfully met the IMLS grant’s goal of preserving at-risk objects and improving access to key data, much of which had been hidden within the files. This previously unrecorded information included a wealth of details about people, vessels, subjects, and institutional history, all of which are now accessible to staff through the creation of a comprehensive finding aid.

This initiative also brought to light previously overlooked individuals, subjects, and vessels, thereby expanding the scope and impact of the Museum’s collection. In addition to the finding aid, the project discoveries led to new collections management system entries, updated records, and enhanced provenance and contextual information. This work has facilitated cross-referencing and the inclusion of new details or corrections to object records.

Notable findings and stories from the files are shared on this site.

Fiddler : What’s In a Name?

Pop-Up Exhibit in the G.W. Blunt White Library: The Snow Baby’s Mother

Charle’s Hervey Townshend’s Double Reflecting and Repeating Circle