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