The Detterer Family Papers

My two last recent trips to the Moravian Archive involved delving into the lives of the Detterer Family- Frederick (1861-1893) and Caroline (Carrie,as she is sometimes addressed in her letters; d.1952 ) and their two surviving children Ernst and Pauline. Ernest's papers had already been approved, so I looked over those of the other Detterer family members. 

I began with Pauline (1898-1982).

As noted in an earlier post, I do not spend a lot of time actually engaging with the documents themselves beyond verifying that they are represented accurately in the catalog; however, I was drawn into Pauline's life by a series of letters written to her by Ernst. The letters were jovial and big brotherly in nature- he chided her, recommended books, and wrote of his travels. He made vague references to incidents she described in her letters  to him, but to me remain a mystery. And I was struck- not for the first time since I began working at the Archive- that some things are just constant and universal.  

She also saved correspondence from other people in her life. RSVPs to parties and social gatherings she held- some from Lehigh students. There are two letters from Lawiston of Phi Sigma Kappa (511 Seneca St, South Bethlehem) that date from February 1917. He hoped to make arrangements to call upon Pauline. Another gentlemen wrote to Pauline to ask for her hand in  marriage. From the proposal, Mr. Callen recognized that he was perhaps more infatuated with her than she with him- though he hoped for a positive answer, nonetheless. The second letter confirms that she had refused his offer. I wonder why she chose independence, as she remained unmarried her entire life. And I am also curious as to why she saved Mr. Callen's letters. If I had time, I would have liked to have to checked the dates of her saved letters against entries in her journals, which she wrote in daily between 1915 to 1971.  

Pressed clovers from her journal
1925-1929

The letters from Lawiston, 1917

Travel Journal, 1963

The worst game of M.A.S.H ever

Picture Postcard from Middleton, NJ

Christmas Letter, San Jose, CA, 1909

Memtos her mother saved include sketch books, a napkin signed from her friends from the First Party of '05, cards from her children, wedding and graduation announcements, the obituary of her husband, doctor's notes & prescriptions related to her husband's illness, receipts, class notes, and the minutes of a club from school. Like Pauline, Caroline also wrote daily in journals. In her first one, she notes her excitement about starting a diary.  In another, she lists the books she had read and one entry described a day trip to Atlantic City. Caroline appears to have always begun each entry with a few words about the day's weather. 

A drawing from her sketch book.
Her son Ernst became an art professor in Chicago.

A Keepsake from her children

A Keepsake from a party

As I reviewed the documents of the Detterers, I was saddened as I thought about how the total of their lives had been collected and stored in the archival boxes. The complexity of a life lived reduced to saved keepsakes. And I wondered why certain items were saved. Obviously, some of the pieces had sentimental value and were purposefully kept by Pauline and Caroline. And other pieces seem almost accidental, like the receipts and prescription notes. Were these items tossed in a drawer, forgotten, and then gathered together after Pauline died to be deposited with the other material at the Archive? I can relate to that- I constantly toss random receipts into drawers to be dealt with at a later date. Or did those items have some unrecognizable value- were the prescriptions a link to Frederick or did the receipt record a meaningful purchase? 

I know I cannot truly know these two women, though I do feel perhaps a kinship with them or an intimacy after pouring over their lives and reading things that they probably never intended to share with anyone else.  According to Pauline's obituary, she is buried at Nisky Cemetery, which is a few blocks from my house.  I hope to visit her soon. 

One final note: I had shared some of the letters with one of the student catalogers when I first began the review of the project. Yesterday, we were both at the Archive again and she asked if I had discovered what the incident was that Ernst refers to in his earliest saved letter to Pauline. I had not. Our conversation, however, evolved into a discussion about twitter, texts, blogs, Facebook, and email. I honestly cannot remember the last time someone sent me a lengthy snail mail letter. Cards at Christmas and Birthdays sure, but an old fashioned hand written letter discussing intimate or not so intimate details of one's life- not since I was a kid. And honestly, it's been a month or so since I received an email of substantial length, longer since I've written one myself- I have a hefty backlog of emails to which I need to respond. Most of my daily exchanges with friends, who exist outside my everyday geography, are made through FB or texts- just snippets of lives and text that I often think give a false sense of connectivity. Occasionally, I keep a journal but not to the dedication that Pauline and Caroline did. I only write in one when I'm traveling abroad or when I have something I need to work through. I wonder when historians and archivists look back on this period of history what they will find to represent the everyday- what will be the ephemera and random saved mementos that document a life lived. How will they connect back to us as I connected to Pauline?

Moravians and Mathematics in the 18th Century

       The 18th-century Moravians who settled in the Lehigh Valley took joy in the world their God created for their personal lives and holy missions.  While their understanding of the universe was largely through the theological interpretations of their holy book, other books on mathematics in their Congregational library helped them understand how the universe worked on a fundamental level.
     One 1757 work, Der Anfangs-Gründe aller mathematischen Wissenschaften, provides the numerical and geometric theories behind shapes and simple machines that could be found even on the margins of Atlantic empire.  Everything from simple pullies to large military fortifications are displayed on intricately-drawn diagrams.  A 1742 volume, Anmerckungen über des herrn geheimden Rath Wolffens, takes a more abstract approach by working through mathematical proofs similar to anything a modern high school student would face.  These are just two examples of many other books with similar objectives.
    The Congregational library also contains books on applied mathematics in a field not usually associated with German pietists in Pennsylvania’s proverbial wilderness: mariners and seamanship.  The Mariner’s Compass Rectified, printed in 1763, contains hundreds of charts helping seamen determine latitude, longitude, declination, and other nautical measurements.  A 1762 volume, The Mariner’s New Calendar, contains not only more charts but also teaches the reader how to understand the basic concepts of geometry with many diagrams of both simple and complex shapes.  While these books are directed toward mariners and seamen, they are, at their base, simply applied geometry.
     In closing, then, while the Moravians certainly attributed the creation of the world to the mysterious grace of their deity, they were also cognizant of the static and inherent rules that governed it.

                                                                        -Andrew Stahlhut

Bethlehem Home Mission Society & Women’s Auxiliary Mission Society Papers

     When I started my final year as an undergraduate student at Lehigh University, a German professor of mine directed me to the Moravian Archives, and I jumped at the opportunity to organize documents, read script, and learn about this city. So far, I’ve been putting missionary society papers in order.
Specifically, I have been organizing the papers of the Bethlehem Home Mission Society (BHMS) and the Women’s Auxiliary Mission Society (WAMS) (which later merged with the Northeastern Moravian Mission Society). The collections are similar, and more or less what one would expect: meetings, fundraisers, donations, and mission accounts. Last week I wrapped up the BHMS collection, and this week, I should finish work on the WAMS.
     The Bethlehem Home Mission Society’s papers seemed familiar—I’ve lived in Bethlehem for about three years now, and the street names I see while walking through the town are the names that appear over and over again, in not only the correspondence and board member lists, but also the work orders for the Locust Street Chapel. And then there are the Chapel Plans. The building may be seemingly old and permanent today, but here its conception and construction are heavily documented.

     The records of the Women’s Mission Society are a bit more complete, with minutes running from 1892 to 1993, and various nonconsecutive logs from 1819 through 1886. I was struck by the other accounts given by early missionaries, presented by their families or descendants. For faith, or possibly adventure, these people traveled far from home at a time when travel was hard and dangerous, and made new lives for themselves in places very unlike Bethlehem. It was strange, though, to read that a missionary was simply sent a new wife after the woman who accompanied him to his mission had died. It’s a bit weird to imagine such a thing happening in American culture today, but it was mentioned without much ado.
     But more on the Society. Particularly interesting is its celebration of Susan Elizabeth Kaske, otherwise known as the first American Foreign Missionary, and member of the congregation of the oldest Women’s Missionary Society in the USA. Her unobtrusive memorial sits upon her grave in Bethlehem, not far from where we work and study today.

                                                                                     -Olivia Sardo

The Desh Family Papers

My role at the Moravian Archives is a bit different than that of our student catalogers. Among my responsibilities, I review the work of the students but generally do not catalog the personal papers. I am, therefore, not able to engage with the material to the same degree as the students, because I am often looking to make sure I's are dotted and T's crossed. I verify that the record is accurate for each individual item.

I am currently reviewing the work undertaken on the Desh Family Papers. The papers consist of material related to five family members- Daniel Desh (1814-1895), Orlando Desh (1843-1932), Ambrose Desh (1845-1911), William Desh (1848-1923), Edward Desh (1850-1879), and Harrison Desh (1854-1932). The collection includes children's school exercises, financial records and transactions, and a series of Civil War letters.  I have assembled a few photographs of their papers-

This was a sketch from Daniel Desh's work book for his mathematical exercises (1835).

This image and the one below are from William Desh's geography work book (1858-1860).  

I very much like finding bits of ephemera pressed between the pages.

Handwriting exercises, the script is beautiful.

And this is perhaps my favorite- two pigs sketched over text.  The words inside the pigs read:  A pig with a curly tail and A short tailed pig.  (Edward Desh)

                                                 
                                                   

The Personal Papers of Kate Hettasch (1905-1987) and Elizabeth Marx (1908-1996)

     As I mentioned in my last blog, I have had the opportunity to work on several collections that  focused on missionaries.  The collections of Kate Hettasch (1905-1987) and Elizabeth Marx (1908-1996) are of us particular interest to me. Both of these individuals were the daughters of Moravian missionaries, Kate's parents in Labrador and Elizabeth's in Tibet (her brothers also were missionaries in South America and places throughout the world).  Their childhood experiences laid the foundation for their future work as missionaries. While it was difficult for woman to work as missionaries unless married, both Kate and Elizabeth were able to do so as teachers. Kate was placed in an English school in Labrador, while Elizabeth worked in Nicaragua at a Moravian school called the Colegio Morava.
     While working on Kate's collection I was struck by her artistic talents.  Kate is relatively famous in the Moravian community for her drawings of the children and life in Labrador, some of which were published in the form of greeting cards.  The collection contained several examples of not only the final product but also her initial sketches.  Below is an example of Kate's work, which can sometimes still be purchased from the Moravian Archives or found online.

     While Kate used her artistic ability to connect to the new world in which she taught, Elizabeth was forced to address not only the cultural but also the political environment in Nicaragua during her tenure.  Elizabeth was placed in Nicaragua not only during a period of internal strife but also an external one with the US. In 1979 a social revolution overthrew the dictatorship, which was replaced by a system based on Communism. Elizabeth’s personal papers document the anxiety she felt between maintaining her status as missionary and the fear she felt as an American outsider.

      During this period, Elizabeth also lacked the support of the Moravian Church, which was beginning to shift its focus away from missionary work. It is fascinating to see the interplay between the Moravian Church and the environments in which it operated.  All of this tension can be ascertained from reading the correspondence of a singular missionary in the field.
     Finally, I was struck by both Kate’s and Elizabeth’s dedication to their work and the lasting connections each had made to Labrador and Nicaragua, respectively. Both women were active in the field for over 35 years.  They returned to the United States as retirees only when their bodies demanded rest.  From their later correspondence and journals, it is evident that both women remained emotionally attached to the places where they had lived most of their lives.

                                                                                                -Katey Fardelmann

Hard Work

     I am almost finished organizing the Lehigh Bridge Collection that David Zboray had initially worked on before he left the Archives. Once David left, more boxes were discovered to which I was assigned to catalog.
     A lot of the documents I have come across relate to the dissolution of the company. The Lehigh Bridge Company officially closed and liquidated its assets in 1920. I have identified numerous letters that the secretary of the company sent to shareholders notifying them of the dissolution and requesting the stock certificate. The secretary, however, was not always able to get in touch with the shareholder. At times, the shareholder may have passed away, which meant the secretary had to track down the executor of the estate.  While not always successful, more often than not he was able to reach the shareholder. When the certificate could not be discovered, a bond of indemnity covering the lost or missing certificate of stock was issued. Even though the Lehigh Bridge Company closed its doors in 1920, the secretary of the company was still contacting shareholders years later!

Sample letter from Lehigh Bridge Company secretary

Response from executor of shareholder's estate

     Compared to today, communication was not as simple or easy during the early 20th century. Without the ease of Google, email, or other networking tools, finding information took time and hard work!

                                                                                               -Alli Kowalski

Bringing the World into the (perceived) Wilderness

     The Moravians that moved to Pennsylvania in the mid 18th century were relative latecomers in the larger process of European colonization.  By the time the Brethren founded Bethlehem in 1741, the Spanish had spent two and a half centuries laying down their ever-expanding empire, and the British – to whom the Moravians were adding their numbers on the edges of established settlement - almost a century and half.  Despite their isolated location and relatively late arrival, Bethlehem’s Moravians maintained an understanding of the world’s geography, both distant continents and the more immediate colonial world.
     Settling the proverbial wilderness, the Moravians found themselves mapping what was to them a new geography.  Their library, however, kept them in close contact with the geography of the world they left behind.  John Arbo, member of the Moravian community, hand-numbered a large atlas composed of printed, hand-colored maps that displayed the latest information regarding known geography in Europe.  Dozens of maps, many themselves as recent as the mid 18th century, illustrate minute details for European states and localities.  It would not be remiss to conclude that the Moravians knew more about the geography thousands of miles away, even in Africa and Asia, than they knew about what was outside their front door in Bethlehem.
     By settling relatively late in the colonial period, Moravians had the added benefit of understanding the “new world” they were moving into much more than their colonial predecessors.  The first Iberians to wander through North and South America in the 16th century were seeing rivers and mountains never before viewed by European eyes.  Their earliest settlements were, from a European perspective, drawn on a completely blank map.  The same is true for the earliest Englishmen in the 17th century to plant colonies on the eastern shore of North America.
     Arbo’s aforementioned Atlas shows how the Moravians understood the western hemisphere at a level the earliest Spanish, English, and other initial explorers could never have imagined.  Moravians in Bethlehem were cognizant of even the smallest villages in Spain’s extensive North and South American empire.  English colonies are shown as settled areas filled with dots on the map representing towns and settlements.  As such, even though the immediate realm around Bethlehem may have been unexplored by Europeans, the Moravians must have been aware they were moving into a very busy colonial neighborhood.
     Many of the books in the Congregational collection showcase maps; however,  Arbo’s atlas most clearly suggests that the Moravians in Bethlehem were not only more familiar with the geography of distant lands more than their own immediate environment but also that they were aware of the already crowded nature of the colonial world they were making into their new home.

                                                                                    -Andrew Stahlhut

The Skeletons in the Book

As I continued my cataloging of books in the Congregational Library, I stumbled across a book from 1706 with a very interesting history and unexpected contents. Its title, Kurtze Verfassung Der Anatomie, Wie Selbige Zu der Mahlerey und Bildhauerey erfordert wird, told me that the book was about anatomy and I began to look through the book.

Title Page, Detail

What caught my eye right away were these stunning plates at the back of the book!

This was not what I imagined drawings in a book about anatomy to look like!

Biceps

This book is the German translation of Roger de Piles’ Abrégé d’anatomie accomodé aux arts de peinture et de sculpture, published in 1667. François Tortebat reproduced the illustrations from Andreas Vesalius’ Fabrica (1538). Vesalius was a physician, anatomist and scholar, and de Piles was an artist and French diplomat (some biographies even claim he was a spy).  De Piles’ book is important because it was one of the first anatomy book created for artists, not for those practicing medicine. The German translation held by the Moravian Archives was fascinating to page through and different words like in this picture would catch my eye!

Source: Ball. James Moore. Andreas Vesalius, the reformer of anatomy. Medical science press, 1910.

                                                                                                   -Meghan Fitch

Broad Street Bridge Company

Stock certificate from 1871

     I recently finished the Broad Street Bridge Company collection I have been working on since the second half of summer. The collection was composed of minute books, correspondence, contracts, deeds, financial bookkeeping, and building plans relating to the Broad Street Bridge Company. The Broad Street Bridge Company was incorporated May 1st 1869. The Broad Street Bridge was made of iron and connected the west side of Main Street with West Bethlehem, crossing above Monocacy Creek. The length of the bridge is 460 feet, divided into three spans of one hundred feet and two of eighty feet each. The bridge was open for travel May 17th, 1871. It was purchased by Lehigh and Northampton counties in 1887, and the collection of tolls ceased May 14th that year. In December 1909, a new modern reinforced concrete bridge was officially opened to vehicles.
     It was interesting to look at the building plans and compare them to what the area looks like today. Looking at the deeds made me very thankful for computer technology. It must have taken a very long time to write out each one. I will now be working on finishing up the Lehigh Bridge Company collection that another Lehigh student worked on during the summer.

Bridge building plan from 1878

Check from 1868

                                                                                                             -Alli Kowalski

Student Catalogers

Two Lehigh students working with the Congregational Library material.

Introducing...

     I would like to begin my first blog by introducing myself and how I came to be part of the Moravian Archives project.  My name is Katey Fardelmann and I am a Masters candidate in Comparative and International Education at Lehigh University, where I also received my undergraduate degree. As an undergrad at Lehigh, I became involved with the Hidden Collections project, shared between Lehigh and the Moravian Church Archives, located just across the river. I was a double major in college, studying both International Relations and German, which encouraged people to ask, "What do you plan on doing with a German degree?"  Apparently the study of German just did not seem like a practical choice, maybe Spanish, Arabic or Chinese would have been better.  In opposition to all those naysayers, I have found a valuable use for my German skills by cataloging the “Personal Collection” at the Moravian Church Archives.  A majority of the collections I have worked on require a reading knowledge of German script. These skills are especially important with regards to personal correspondence, which was often with relatives who remained in Germany. I have worked on about six or seven collections so far that includes the collection of a Civil War solider, several Moravian ministers (many of whom also published academic articles and books), and missionary workers from South Africa, Tibet, Nicaragua, and Labrador.  In working with these collections, especially that of the Civil War solider, I am always struck by not only the historical importance of some of the pieces but also by the reach of the Moravian Church.  In a time period with minimal transportation abilities, the true scope of the Moravian mission and therefore the message of the Moravian Church are incredible. In future blog entries, I will discuss more fully the aspects of my collections, which will help express the influence that the Moravian Church had throughout the world.

                                                                                         -Katey Fardelmann

Making a Connection

     The Kilbuck collection was one of the first that I was tasked with assessing, researching, organizing, and cataloging. It still remains, after a multitude of other collections, one of my most fond and well remembered. The Kilbuck collection consists primarily of letters, journals, articles, and notes written by John and Edith Kilbuck about their time as missionaries and educators in the Alaskan wilderness. The collection dates from the early 1880s until the late 1920s.
     John Henry Kilbuck was the great grandson of Gelelemend, head Chief of the Delaware Native Americas, and a descendent of Netwates, King of the Delaware’s. He was born on May 15th, 1861 in what was then Indian Territory in Kansas. John spent much of his youth at a nearby Moravian mission.  The missionaries identified John as a gifted, young individual- this allowed him to receive a formal education at Nazareth Hall in Pennsylvania; later, he attended Moravian College and Theological Seminary from which he graduated with a B.A. in 1882 and a B.D. in 1884. After his graduation and ordination, John returned home to Kansas and met Edith Romig whom he married in 1885. The newly-wed couple journeyed to Alaska shortly after their marriage to serve as missionaries.
     My fascination with this collection lies in the character of both John and Edith. I spent a fair amount of time reading correspondences, journals, and papers written by John and Edith in order to properly organize the collection. In doing so, I was indirectly drawn into their lives. John and Edith wrote extremely comprehensive and inclusive journals to one another, and the inclusion of the small details in my opinion gives off the most profound effect.  It was all the small details that drew me into the lives of John and Edith. I discovered their extreme perseverance and good nature. They accomplished so much in the face of adversity. Despite losing his arm in a fishing accident, John was able to continue his work in Alaska, accomplishing so much more through his ingenuity and strong desire to live his life. This incident is only one of many that speaks to John’s perseverance and dedication to his mission-being able to personally examine their lives was highly rewarding and I highly recommend stopping into the Archives to read their correspondence. For out of all of the collections I have worked with so far, the Kilbucks have been the most intriguing.
                                                                                                 -Fred Carter

Moravian community’s eighteenth-century Congregational Library

As a cataloger for the Moravian community’s eighteenth-century Congregational Library in Bethlehem I am privy to one of the most important links they, like any colonial community, shared with the larger Atlantic world – their books.  While the Moravians were well known for their cultural and geographic insularity in the Americas, such isolation belies their interests outside German Protestantism and missionary activity.  The Congregational Library contains books from a wide variety of subjects suggesting that the Moravian community was aware of the larger Atlantic world. This collection of books is at odds with the traditional portrayal of the Moravians solely as missionaries to the Native Americans.

Most works are of a religious nature, as is to be expected.  These works are usually in German and range from the most basic tenants of Luther’s Protestantism to the unique scriptural insights of Zinzendorf and Moravian dogma.  The library even includes works of folk religion, including: Sensible and Christian thoughts on the Vampires or Bloodsucking Dead Which, among the Turks and on the border/frontiers of the Serbian lands, suck the blood from the living men and cattle Accompanied with all sorts of theological, philosophical and historical [things] fetched from the realm of the spirits. One would expect to find these kinds of works in any colonial community of pious Germans, and their presence in the congregational library is no surprise.

The Moravian library, however, expands thoroughly past the limited borders of theology and Christly proverbs.  Dictionaries and encyclopedias, ranging from 5 to 20 volume sets, were available to the community.  These intricate anthologies served as collections of the western world’s combined scientific knowledge, collapsing the realm of European knowledge onto a shelf in Moravian settlement, located in the newer, more sparsely settled parts of Pennsylvania or the Backwoods. Collections of laws from the various colonies and plantations of the British world kept the small German community abreast of the growing empire of which they were a tangential part.  Books on mathematics, often in the context of seamanship, explained how the world that their deity created operated on a fundamental level.  In sum, despite their location in the Backwoods of Pennsylvania, the Moravians were unusually well-connected to the Atlantic world around them.

Future postings will follow the idea established here, focusing on the unique and seemingly-unusual books found in the Moravian library and how they connect the little Bethlehem community to Europe, empire, and a rapidly-growing Atlantic world.

                                                        -Andrew Stahlhut

Exit Essays

Because we did not have the blog site up and running before some of our student staff moved on (graduated!), we asked them to write essays that discussed their experiences at the Moravian Church Archives.  To follow are some of the highlights-

     Beyond the books themselves, I was also interested in the provenance and other inscriptions on the books. In particular I enjoyed looking at how particular people signed their books. Some of the signatures were absolutely beautiful, clearly the result of much thought and practice. One of my favorite signatures was from one gentleman who wrote his initials in a very intricate, looping pattern in a single stroke. There was also a hymnal, a common Moravian hymnal from the period, which was full of drawings. The insides of the cover and all the blank pages were full of horses, as well as a few people riding some of the horses. It seemed to be a child’s hand, and examining the different drawings was fascinating.
                                                                                                         -Alexander Haitos

     It is hard to believe that only 10 months ago I walked into the Moravian Archives for the first time.  I showed up for the interview almost completely in the dark as to what the work would entail.  All I knew was that the job required some German and that I would be reading old documents concerning the Moravians.  Apart from that I was oblivious--I didn’t even know who the Moravians were.  The learning curve for the job was fairly steep; however, and I soon became adept at reading through, organizing, and cataloging the documents I was assigned.  Moreover, with each collection I was able to experience a different take on Moravian life, whether it was through the account of a sailor, a missionary, a composer, or any of the other different accounts I was fortunate enough to receive.
                                                                                                                                        
                                                                                                      -Mark Whitmeyer

I interned at the archives between March of 2010 and June 2011. While there, I worked on the Hidden Collections Grant funded by CLIR. My duties at first were to examine and catalog handmade maps and architectural drawings from late 18th century to mid 19th century. Over the course of the year, my duties grew to include maps and drawings from 1850 to present day. After cataloging the maps and drawings in the archives, I worked on organizing and cataloging the Archives' documents from the Lehigh Bridge Company.

     

The main tool of the cataloging process was Augias. It’s an archival program developed to catalog various documents and items. Input to the program is straight forward and much like a word processing program.The catalog process for the maps had numerous steps. All information was entered into Augias. The title was first recorded as it appeared on the piece, if needed I would then translate the title to English and give a short description of the work, noting important features. I would then date the piece and record the technique used to produce the work. The artist’s name and the dimensions of the work would be entered next. The scale and any damages also had to be noted. Finally I would give the piece a reference number and place it in a folder.

Bethlehem, 1758

There were over 1000 entries in this project. Much of the earlier work was in German and written in Fraktur, an old form of German script which the Archives educated me on. I would not have been able to complete the projects without my prior knowledge of German. My civil engineering experience came in to play particularly when cataloging blue prints and identifying what systems were covered and the proper names of different drawings. Over the course of the project many interesting pieces crossed my desk, some stick out. There are detailed drawings of the pipe system at Bethlehem Gas Works in 1850 (f.125.5). There is also a small “travel map” of Pennsylvania from 1750 (f.037.6).

In addition to the maps and drawings, I also cataloged the collection of documents from the Lehigh Bridge Company. These consisted of numerous boxes of documents from 1791 to 1920 filled with items from the Company. I was tasked with familiarizing myself with the documents, creating a system to categorize them, and then cataloging them using Augias. After this was completed and all the pieces were arranged in their folders, and the folders into boxes, I had to write a scope for the collection and a brief history of the company.

    

The main challenge to this project was time. During the school year the hours of the archives gave a limited window to work in, particularly when working around tests and projects. Since the hours of the archives (8:30am to 4:30pm) perfectly overlap with class hours (7:55am to 4:00pm) I had to plan accordingly to ensure I put in time at the archives. During the summer however these barriers didn’t exist. If there were any questions about the pieces or archival process, Paul Peuker and Lannie Graff were always available to help.

Overall my time at the archives was incredibly interesting. Every day I was able to physically handle pieces of history, some from before the founding of our country. Additionally I was able to learn much more about the history of Bethlehem and the surrounding area to Lehigh. It gave me more of an appreciation to where the University was located and its complex background.

                                                                                                                     -David Zboray

Small Finds

During my dissertation days, I had a friend, who was conducting research in the National Archives on 1930s Public Housing. She read through lots of government documents held together by a variety of fasteners. She commented once that someone should research the evolution of paper clips, staples, and the like. I found this doozy at Moravian. It took a nail file to remove, and we did so without damaging the document.

Imprimatur

     An interesting question came up while I was assigning the call numbers to books that are in the Congregational Library Collection. The book I was working on was titled The Harmony of the Four Evangelists, and their Text Methodiz’d, According to the Order and Series of times, in which the several things by them mentioned, were Transacted. Wherein the Entire History of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, is Methodically set forth. It was written by Samuel Cradock and was published in London in 1668. I as given pause, because opposite the title page the text, “Imprimatur, June 7, 1667. Tho. Grigg, R.P. ac Dno Dno Humfr. Episc. Lond. À Sacr. Dom.” appeared.  I had not yet encountered anything of its like as I sought to identify publisher, bookseller, and printer information. So, what is an imprimatur? And what is its significance? 

     It turns out that an imprimatur is a statement of authorization that was needed before a book could be published.  The imprimatur was required for Cradock’s book, because The Act for Preventing the Frequent Abuses in Printing Seditious, Treasonable and Unlicensed Books and Pamphlets, and for Regulating of Printing and Printing Presses, was established in 1662 (and was not too long after abandoned). Its purpose was to limit the number of books that could be printed and to require official approval before a book could be printed or sold. This regulation gave the government control over what the public could read. Authorization was given from a variety of important religious and government officials, such as the Bishop or London, a principal Secretary of State, or the Lord Chancellor. When a book required an imprimatur from the Bishop of London, it was typically sent to a chaplain of the Bishop for examination.   In the case of The Harmony of the Four Evangelists, Tho. Grigg, refers to Thomas Grigg, chaplain to Humphrey Henchman, Bishop of London. In order for Cradock’s book to be published in 1668, Grigg needed to grant permission after checking the book for anything perceived as being harmful to the church or government. (Information about Thomas Grigg and the 1662 Act were found from N.H. Keeble’s book, The Restoration: England in the 1660s, on pages 148-149.) 

     Today, especially in the United States, it is hard to imagine a book censure such as this one. Anyone can write and publish a book or put information out on the internet. It was quite enjoyable to do a little research and discover an interesting history lesson about book printing in 17th century Britain! 

Source:
Keeble, N.H. The Restoration: England in the 1660s. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002.

                                                                                                                     
                                                                                                     - Meghan Fitch
                                                                                                           

The Moravian Community in the New World: The First Hundred Years from the Catalogers’ Perspective

     Lehigh University, in partnership with the Moravian Archives, was awarded a $90,000 grant under the Council on Library and Information Resources (CLIR) Cataloging Hidden Special Collections and Archives Program to enhance scholarly access to books, records, and maps held by the Archives.  This two-year collaborative project, “The Moravian Community in the New World: The First Hundred Years,” will process collections documenting the material culture, religious values and cultural diversity of the Moravian community of Bethlehem from its founding in 1741 until the opening of the community to non-Moravians in 1844 and the subsequent incorporation of Bethlehem in 1851.

     The collections being cataloged through the grant reflect the multi-faceted life of Moravian Bethlehem, a transatlantic community in its interaction with other cultures. Because the church controlled every aspect of life within Bethlehem, matters were recorded in order to be reported to church leadership; matters that in other communities went unrecorded. Included are personal papers of artists, tradesmen, missionaries, and sailors, along with business records and the 2,000 volume Congregational Library. In addition, approximately 800 maps and architectural drawings showing the earliest documentation of European settlement in Pennsylvania are included in this project. 

     Created in 2008, the Cataloging Hidden Special Collections and Archives awards program supports the identification and cataloging of special collections and archives of high scholarly value that are difficult or impossible to locate. It is administered by the Council on Library and Information Resources in Washington D.C.  Award recipients create descriptive information for their hidden collections that will eventually be linked to and interoperable with all other projects funded by this grant program.

The Moravian Archives

41 West Locust Street

Bethlehem, Pennsylvania 18018 

Phone: (610) 866-3255
Fax: (610) 866-9210
info@moravianchurcharchives.org

Lois Fischer Black 

Curator of Special Collections 

Lehigh University 

Bethlehem, PA 

lob206@lehigh.edu