December 7, 2016 is the 75th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Below, MIRC Curator Greg Wilsbacher explores how newsreel footage and other images helped to craft a specific narrative of the attack. Pearl Harbor, …
October 27, 2016 is World Day for Audiovisual Heritage. From the Coordinating Council of Audiovisual Archives Associations (CCAAA) website: “the theme of the World Day this year is ‘It’s Your Story – Don’t Lose It.’ Every …
The following post was written by MIRC Assistant Director and Curator for Regional Film Collections, Lydia Pappas. In November 2015, preservation copying of the Willie Lee Buffington Collection films was completed by Colorlab, with thanks …
The following blog is adapted from a presentation delivered by MIRC Curator Dr. Greg Wilsbacher to the Orphan Film Symposium X (April 7, 2016, Library of Congress, National Audio Video Conservation Center, Culpeper, VA). “Movietone” …
December 7, 2016 is the 75th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Below, MIRC Curator Greg Wilsbacher explores how newsreel footage and other images helped to craft a specific narrative of the attack.
Still image from Fox Movietone News’ “Now It Can Be Shown!”
Pearl Harbor, two words that should foremost name a place, a harbor on the southern shore of the Island Oahu. Seventy-five years ago this geographic label was transformed through a complex series of events into a national symbol of individual grit and determination struggling against the full fury of a treacherous foreign empire, a cautionary tale of complacency and a warning that the nation could not insulate itself from global conflict. Remember Pearl Harbor.
Fox Movietone News cameraman Al Brick.
Such a complex symbol did not spring sui generis from the minds of Americans in the weeks following the attack on December 7th. It was, of course, constructed by the government and the media in the months and years following. Like other newsreels of the time, Fox Movietone News played its part in the construction of this symbol—indeed, it had a special role to play. Unlike the other newsreels, Movietone had positioned a cameraman in Hawaii months in advance of the attack in anticipation of war with Japan. Al Brick’s films of Pearl Harbor the morning of the attack became a cornerstone of the visual narrative underwriting the larger symbolic structure of Remember Pearl Harbor. When his films were released by the Navy Department a full year after the attack, Movietone created a special release entitledNow It Can Be Shown!
Still image from Fox Movietone News’ “Now It Can Be Shown!”
Now It Can Be Shown! features sweeping panoramas of the entire harbor from Aeia in the waning moments of the Japanese attack and close in sequences of American battleships blazing with smoke and fire taken from inside the harbor. Even though he is rarely credited for shooting them, these scenes are among the most enduring images of the attack and have played an important role in the symbolism of Pearl Harbor. Both the panorama and close in scenes emphasize the scale of the attack and the horrors faced by Americans onboard Arizona and other battleships. Brick’s films also invite viewers to pose questions about the morning that feed the symbolic narrative constructed about the attack. What if the Japanese attack not been so ‘sneaky’? What if the fleet had been better prepared? What if soldiers, sailors and Marines had known an attack was coming? Clearly the amassed might of the fleet visible in Brick’s panorama of the harbor would have beaten back the Japanese if they had had a chance…
Still image from a tape copy of 16mm film shot by Chief Petty Officer Clyde Daughtry on board the USS Argonne. Held at the National Archives and Records Administration.
Al Brick’s films were not the only ones made that morning. In fact, the attack on Pearl Harbor was documented by a surprising number of still and moving image cameras. Still cameras were present and operating onFord Island, inthe Navy Yard and fromAiea heights. In addition to Al Brick’s camera, motion picture cameras were present and in use on the USS Solace, the USS Argonne, and the USS Mugford. The release of different images (some of them incolor) from different moments that morning would have enabled other interpretations of December 7th. Images that forefront the speed with which sailors and Marines manned anti-aircraft guns and ships sortied from moorings to seek out the Japanese—most significant of these the battleship Nevada which can been seen in one film moving down channel fighting madly against swarming Japanese dive bombers. Confronted with these images, the narrative of a sleepy nation caught unawares would have proven more challenging to construct. The fleet was prepared and had only the weekend before been on full alert in preparation for war with Japan.
Still image from Fox Movietone News’ “Now It Can Be Shown!”
It is not surprising that the government carefully selected what images to release and when to release them as part of its concerted effort to focus the nation’s energy on the new reality of total war. Now It Can Be Shown! provides an essential look at a carefully crafted narrative. But our commemoration of the 75th Anniversary of the attack and the nation’s entry into World War II should not be bound by that story. Remembering the attack of December 7th should also include a review of historical records that complicate the established war-time narrative.
October 27, 2016 is World Day for Audiovisual Heritage. From the Coordinating Council of Audiovisual Archives Associations (CCAAA)website: “the theme of the World Day this year is ‘It’s Your Story – Don’t Lose It.’ Every culture, every country has its own story to tell. These stories remind us of our shared humanity and build connections between people. Every story we keep in our archives means that we keep memories alive. Stories should be kept safe, stories create an invaluable archive for future generations – it’s your (and their!) story – don’t lose it!” In honor of this year’s theme, MIRC Assistant Director and Curator Lydia Pappas shares some examples of how some of the stories kept safe at MIRC remain important to people, institutions, and communities.
In 1946 a film was made about the town of Bennettsville in the upstate of South Carolina on the Great Pee Dee River. The town was named for the Governor of South Carolina, Thomas Bennett. The film of Bennettsville, SC, is from the My Home Town series of films produced by noted independent filmmaker Don Parisher and his production company, Park Motion Picture Productions. Parisher was a director and producer who worked for studios such as MGM and Paramount, as well as for the March of Time film series. From the 1940s to the 1960s he created many films for towns on the East Coast of the United States from New Jersey down to Florida, but only about half of these films now survive. They are promotional films for towns that feature the leading citizens, businesses, schools and landmarks of that municipality. Parisher remained active in filmmaking until the late 1960s. His last films were of towns in Florida, where he retired and died in the 1980s.
Members of the Bennettsville community viewing the footage shot in their town in 1946.
In 2016, I found the film of Bennettsvile, SC, in the MIRC collections and had it digitized to share online. I contacted the Librarian at the public Library in Bennettsville to see whether copies were needed for the local reference section. The Librarian then invited me to come and screen the film at a local history meeting at the library. In the meantime, I realized that the film itself, although credited with a narrator, was silent, and set out to track down the soundtrack for this film to take to the screening. Unfortunately the sound track was never found and all surviving copies of the film were silent. Fortunately it was possible to take the soundtrack of a similar film made by the same company of a different town in NC and apply it to the Bennettsville film. It was then possible to screen this film with sound to the Bennettsville local history group to great acclaim and the addition of much descriptive metadata for the catalog record of the film as many unidentified people appearing in the film were recognized by locals attending the screening.
The story of a family – Weir home movies
This collection of black and white and color acetate film came from a newly donated home movie collection from Dr. Robert M. Weir, Ph.D., Distinguished Professor Emeritus of History at the University of South Carolina. The home movies of this family depict expatriate family life in early 1930s Berlin, their travels to America in the late 1930s, and trips around Europe in the 1940s. The American family travelled and lived in Europe in the early and mid 1930s before returning to the United States in 1939. Films show family scenes of travel and home time, children learning to ride a bike and a trip to the zoo and many other innocent scenes of people getting together and going about their daily business.
These films also depict scenes of a parade on May Day in 1937 that shows swastika flags and Nazi officers. Notable highlights include images of famous buildings and landmarks that did not survive the bombing raids of WWII, such as the Cathedral and City Palace in Berlin, and the Hamburg Zoo. The family also vacationed in various places before returning to America in the late 1930s. There are color shots of such places as London, Paris, Bruges and the Riviera, as well as scenes on various ocean liners as the family traveled between Europe and the United States. These are the original master positive reversal elements, some of which are in color, making them quite rare as there are very few extant amateur films that capture Berlin and Germany in the 1930s. Some home movies depict the Blitz in London, and films shot by American visitors and Army filmmakers capture the later years of the war but very few extant films capture the period leading up to and including the early years of the second World War, particularly in Germany at the start of the Third Reich and especially in color. Some new discoveries have seen the National Archives of Norway publishing some color photography from a Norwegian engineer based in Berlin in the 1930s that show similar scenes, and the BBC has issued scenes of the Third Reich in color, using early German uses of color film for their propaganda. There remains very little amateur color filmmaking that survived the war. These films are currently being preserved as a part of an NFPF Basic Preservation Grant.
USC vs Wake Forest 1958, starring King Dixon and Alex Hawkins, during the time when Hawkins and King Dixon formed a formidable halfback combo for the Gamecocks under Coach Warren Giese and were known as the Gamecocks’ “touchdown twins.” The 1958 team under Giese finished 7-3 that season and with the combined talents of players like Alex Hawkins and King Dixon had the possibility of being really special, but two close losses spoiled the possibility of a major bowl. At the end of the season they were a close second to Clemson in the ACC title race.
1958 was Dixon and Hawkins’ senior year. Dixon was an outstanding halfback for South Carolina and tri-captain on the team and shortly thereafter graduated cum laude in his class. After graduation he built a distinguished 22-year career in the Marines, retiring with rank of lieutenant colonel and had earned many military decorations including the Bronze Star, the Navy Commendation Medal with Combat V for Heroic Services and the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star. Around three decades later he came back to the University as its Athletics Director.
Hawkins was named Third Team All-America by members of The Associated Press in his senior season of 1958, when he was also named as the Atlantic Coast Conference Player of the Year. USC went 7-3 that year and defeated rival Clemson 26-6 for the only time in his career. He ended with 1,490 career yards and led USC to 19 wins in three years – at the time, it was the second-most successful three-year period in program history, behind 20 wins from 1924-26.
The Wake Forest game was important because of the three Touch Down’s scored (via pass reception), a first in Gamecock history. In this play for the 1958 Wake Forest game, you can see one of these passes from Hawkins, leading to a touch down by Dixon. These scenes show Alex Hawkins throwing a 45 yd. bomb touchdown pass to King Dixon on a spectacular halfback sweep pass play. MIRC recently contacted Mr. King Dixon and sent him a DVD copy of this game, which he was not only delighted to receive, but also took to show his friend, Alex Hawkins, as a memory aid to alleviate the symptoms of dementia from which he suffers. Many memories were re-lived by the two old team mates from being able to watch this game and return to their college days, if only for a little while.
~Written by Lydia Pappas, MIRC Assistant Director and Curator
80 years ago today, on August 9, 1936, Jesse Owens made world history and became an icon of racial equality when he took his 4th Gold at the Olympics in Hitler’s Berlin. Owens won his first Gold on the 2nd, beating fellow African-American Ralph Metcalfe in the 100 meter dash. On the 3rd and the 5th of August, he took personal Golds again, in the long jump and 200 meters, respectively. His race on the 9th was the 4×100 meter relay, when he and Metcalfe were subbed for the Jewish-American runners Sam Stoller and Marty Glickman in a controversial decision. Together with Foy Draper and Frank Wykoff, Owens and Metcalfe set a world record that would stand for 20 years. It would be nearly 50 years before another American sprinter tied Owens’ Gold-medals-in-a-single-Olympics record, when Carl Lewis took Gold in the same 4 events in 1984. That tie still stands.* Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt has smashed many of Lewis’s records—but not that one. In Rio, Bolt is set to compete in the same events that he competed in—and won—in 2008 and 2012: the 100m (August 13), the 200m (August 16), and the 4x100m relay (August 18). Whatever happens, he won’t take 4 Golds.
I am not an expert on track-and-field (I probably don’t even qualify as an amateur enthusiast), but I love to watch it, and I look forward to the summer Olympics every year (I also love swimming). MIRC’s Fox Movietone News Collection has many sports stories, but my personal favorite is Fox Movietone News Story 21-261: “National Indoor Championships—outtakes.”
Still image from Fox Movietone outtakes of one of the races at the Amateur Athletic Union Track and Field Championships.
Filmed at the February 1934 Amateur Athletic Union Track and Field Championships by Al Gold (who also caught the Hindenburg disaster), “National Indoor Championships—outtakes” consists of raw statements by several of the competitors at Madison Square Garden that day. It is a charming piece, capturing the nervousness of the young competitors in the literal shadows of the sports journalists behind the camera.
Jesse Owens after breaking the world record for the long jump
Owens (age 20) is probably the most famous today. He is second to appear, and shows more confidence than some of his peers, declaring, “It is the ambition of every athlete to break the world’s record, of which I was fortunate enough to do tonight in the running broad [long] jump with a leap of 25 feet 3 and 1/8th inches.” Owens’ most impressive display of athleticism would come a year later, when he set 3 world records and tied a 4th in the space of 45 minutes at the 1935 Big Ten Championships. (In contrast, Olympic athletes have at least a day’s break, and sometimes more, between events.)
Charles “Chuck” Hornbostel (22), a middle-distance runner who would go on to take 5th in the 800m at the Berlin Olympics, appears before Owens, noting gravely, “the calibre of athletes was much higher than the average.” John Collier (26), who coincidentally shared a birthday with Hornbostel, appears after Owens. Collier competed in the 110m hurdles at the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics, but notes with pride that the 1934 indoor championships marked his first national title “in a long career in running.” He speaks seriously, but flashes a smile after someone behind the camera (perhaps Al Gold?) makes an inaudible joke.
Owens’ friend and rival—and future US Congressmen (D-Illinois)—Ralph Metcalfe (23) appears fourth. Metcalfe is introduced as “the famous Ralph Metcalfe” and flubs his first take, claiming to have won the 60 yard, rather than meter, dash. Metcalfe was better known than Owens in ’34, having already taken Silver in the 200m at the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics in a race many said he should have tied. Metcalfe’s time was recorded at 10.3 seconds, the same as that of official winner Eddie Tolan (another very fine African-American sprinter of the 1930s). Metcalfe would Silver again in ’36, losing that time to Owens. Tolan did not compete in the Berlin Olympics because he lost his amateur status after a brief Vaudeville career. Owens would also run afoul of the regulations surrounding amateur sport—a reminder that amateurism could be economically, and by extension racially, discriminatory.
Milton Sandler follows Metcalfe in the Fox film. More obscure than the other athletes on the reel, Sandler is nevertheless a delight to watch. Wearing a uniform that would seem at place in a mid-century space opera, he cheerfully stumbles through the statement, “I must owe my allegiance to Coach Greenwald.” Sandler won the 600m at the Indoor Track & Field Championships in 1933, 1934, and 1935.
Next, Avery Brundage, a passionate defender of amateurism who would go on to serve 20 years as Olympic Commissioner, awards the 1933 James E. Sullivan Medal to another all-time great of track-and-field, Glenn Cunningham (24). Cunningham placed 5th in the 1500 at the Amsterdam Olympics, broke the world record in the mile in 1934, and Silvered in Berlin. He also held a world record for the 800m. All of this with only 7 toes and 1 good arch: Cunningham’s legs were terribly burned in a childhood accident that left him unable to walk, let alone run, for two years. Although he desperately wanted to break the 4 minute mile, he never did (that honor went instead to Roger Bannister in 1954). Cunningham was, however, the last American to set a world record in the mile for decades, until fellow University of Kansas runner Jim Ryun set it consecutively in 1966 and 1967.
The last two athletes to appear in the newsreel (separated by a brief flash of Cunningham posing with his medal) are pole vaulter Bill Graber (22) and high jumper Walter Marty (23). Graber was another reigning world champion in 1934, and a charmer behind thick eyebrows on camera. His July 1932 record vault of 4.37m stood for 3 years. Although he competed in both the 1932 and 1936 Olympics, he failed to medal each time. Marty, a Western roll high jumper and brief world record holder, is sweetly nervous as he talks about his rival George Spitz, who practiced a variation on the classic scissors technique. After several takes, Marty drifts off, plaintively raising his eyebrows, and turns away. He appears again briefly in one final shot that was probably aborted by Gold—but maybe, just maybe, instead resulted in a clean take that was trimmed out for use by Fox.
*The international record for most Gold medals in track-and-field is held neither by an American, nor a sprinter. In 1924, Finn and long-distance-runner Paavo Nurmi took 5. At the same games in Paris, fellow Finn and long-distance-runner Vilho Ritola set the record for most track-and-field medals in a single Olympics, winning 4 Golds and 2 Silvers. Although I have yet to find Ritola, Nurmi features in several Fox stories. For example, “Paavo Nurmi arrives in airplane—outtakes” shows him disembarking in Berlin for the International Sporting Festival, and “Track and field meet—outtakes” shows him competing in Los Angeles, part of his 1925 American tour.
The following post was written by MIRC Assistant Director and Curator for Regional Film Collections, Lydia Pappas.
In November 2015, preservation copying of the Willie Lee Buffington Collection films was completed by Colorlab, with thanks to a National Film Preservation Foundation Basic Preservation grant. This collection consists of six reels, or approximately 1,864 feet of 16mm Kodachrome film, of Willie Lee Buffington’s personal amateur film footage and prominently features segregated African-American schools and Faith Cabin Libraries in rural Georgia and South Carolina.
Still image from one of Willie Lee Buffington’s home movies.
The Buffington Collection came to MIRC from the South Caroliniana Manuscripts division where the papers of Mr. Buffington are stored after being donated by his family. The manuscripts collection consists of correspondence, reports, records of library operations, transcripts of radio work, and other promotional materials about his work to establish Faith Cabin Libraries in South Carolina and Georgia, and includes a master list of Faith Cabin Libraries locations in South Carolina.
Willie Lee Buffington, 1908-1988, was a white mill worker and Methodist minister from Saluda, South Carolina, and was best known as the founder of the Faith Cabin Library (FCL) movement, created to support literacy to underserved African-American youth by building libraries of free books for poor, segregated schools in rural communities. The first Faith Cabin Library was established in Buffington’s hometown of Saluda, South Carolina in 1932, and were so named in that they were “built on faith, and housed in cabins.”
Still image from one of Willie Lee Buffington’s home movies.
The six reels of home movies in the Buffington Collection capture a unique glimpse into the life and customs of rural Southern Americans, particularly the youth that lived in predominantly Black communities. The footage was filmed in the early 1950s in the South, where schools remained segregated until the late 1960s and where African Americans were not allowed to use general public libraries. These communities had very few alternatives for sources of educational reading material, and the Faith Cabin Libraries filled an essential need in American education for these underserved communities. When these films were created it was estimated that there were more than 100 Faith Cabin Libraries in existence throughout Georgia and South Carolina. The library system remained active until the mid-1970s, but sadly at this present time very few of these buildings are still standing. A historic marker for a Faith Cabin Library in Anderson, South Carolina claims that only two remain in the state.
Willie Lee Buffington’s story is not just a story of philanthropy but of kindness and determination. As a small child Willie Lee Buffington was encouraged to read and enjoy books by a Black school teacher, Euriah Simpkins, who encouraged Buffington to go to college. In 1931, while working as a mill worker in Edgefield, Buffington attended the dedication of Simpkins’ new school in Saluda. It had been built with money from a Northern philanthropist and Buffington was shocked to find that the school had no books. “It was unthinkable that a school should not have a few books,” he later wrote. Returning home, he had an inspiration. He picked the names of five ministers out of a Sunday School publication and wrote them letters asking for a donation of books. Two months later, he received a letter from the Rev. L. H. King of St. Mark’s Methodist Church in Harlem, New York, followed by a donation of 1,000 books that Rev. King’s congregation had gathered.
Still image from one of Willie Lee Buffington’s home movies.
In a matter of months, using volunteer labor and materials donated by local community members, a library was built near Saluda. It was 18 feet by 22 feet and had a rock chimney. People used barrels for chairs and read by the light of kerosene lamps, as the closest electric power was five miles away. It was named the “Faith Cabin Library” because when they began, they had nothing to go on but faith.
A small amount of faith can go a long way, and after a small magazine wrote a story about the Faith Cabins, readers sent enough books to start another library in Ridge Spring, about 10 miles south of Saluda. Over the next 20 years, religious magazines and even mainstream publications such as Reader’s Digest wrote about the Faith Cabin Libraries. The publicity helped and each time an article appeared, people sent Buffington more books and support from across the American states, including from as far afield as Dartmouth College students in New Hampshire, and a Kiwanis Club in California.
Still image from one of Willie Lee Buffington’s home movies.
At a time when African Americans fought for education, when laws kept them out of libraries, and the Ku Klux Klan was powerful, it took courage to do what Buffington and all those who helped him did. Ethel Brown, 70, of Saluda, Buffington’s daughter, is still amazed at what her father, a book-lover who used to go to sleep reading a book, managed to do. “You think of philanthropists doing something like this. But my dad grew up in a poor rural family. If he’d had lots of money, you’d expect this. But all he had was a dream,” said Brown. “He really didn’t have a whole lot more than the people he was trying to help.”
These films show communities working together to improve the lives of others during a difficult time in American history, and provide rare moving images associated with the education and library services for African Americans in the South. These films are an asset to social historians and civil rights researchers interested in these topics and are now available to be viewed by the general public through MIRC’s Digital Video Repository.
~Written by Lydia Pappas, MIRC Assistant Director and Curator
The following blog is adapted from a presentation delivered by MIRC Curator Dr. Greg Wilsbacher to the Orphan Film Symposium X (April 7, 2016, Library of Congress, National Audio Video Conservation Center, Culpeper, VA).
Example of Movietone’s variable density optical sound track recorded directly onto film negative.
“Movietone” sound was a patented system first perfected by Theodore Case and Earl I. Sponable at the Case Research Labs in Auburn, New York.1 Movietone’s variable density optical sound track was recorded directly onto the original camera negative, making it an ideal system for synch-sound newsreels. In 1926, movie mogul William Fox purchased rights to use the technology, creating the Fox-Case Corporation. Through the fall of 1926 and early winter 1927, sound recording in New York studios were the principle objective, but the time was also ripe for sound films to break out of the curtain and felt-lined walls of the early sound studio and move out into the world.
In March of 1927 the Fox-Case Corporation, working within the structure of Fox Film’s New York operations, traveled north to West Point to film the cadets of the United States Military Academy. The filming probably took place on Wednesday, March 16th (the 125th Anniversary of the academy). It was the first field trial of the complete Movietone mobile sound truck. Once this test was deemed a success the truck and cameraman Ben Miggins were sent off to Europe to film heads of state and other notables. A month later, on April 27th, the synch-sound film of the West Point cadets was screened to Fox employees.2 On the 29th it premiered to the public at the Roxy, a palatial new theater on Broadway already outfitted for Movietone sound by Fox. Almost another month would pass before a Movietone truck found what it was looking for… news.
Shortly after seven in the morning of May 20, 1927 Charles Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis struggled off the muddy runway of Roosevelt Field into a still gloomy sky. When Lindy landed in Paris 33 hours and 30 minutes later he had become an international celebrity. In New York, newsreel companies scrambled to assemble special reels to carry the breaking news into theaters.3
Fox Film’s silent newsreel, Fox News, however,held a wild card—the Fox-Case Movietone film of Lindy’s take off. The Roxy Theater screened this film to packed audiences in the days following. The New York Times reported that over 6,000 theater goers arose in spontaneous cheer as they saw and heard the Spirit of St. Louis roar down the field.
While Fox was tinkering with optical sound trucks, aviation crews throughout the spring of 1927 were tinkering in hangers to finalize plans for the first New York to Paris flights. The Orteig Prize was established by Raymond Orteig to reward the first air crew to fly non-stop from New York to Paris. It had been on offer since 1919. In the spring of 1927, the great explorer/navigator Admiral Richard E. Byrd was favored to beat the competition. He was backed by merchant mogul Rodman Wanamaker, had brought together a top notch crew to fly the Fokker tri-motor airplane (the same model plane he’d used in his arctic expeditions). However, on April 20th his heavily modified plane nosed over on landing during a trial flight, injuring members of the crew and causing substantial damage. Any hope that Byrd would fly in April was dashed. In the following month three other teams tried to cross the Atlantic, but went down, killing four aviators. Their misfortunes further stoked public interest in the prize and renewed hopes that Byrd’s team could still claim the prize.
Still image of the christening of Byrd’s plane, from Fox Movietone News story 1-311.
Byrd scheduled an elaborate christening ceremony carefully orchestrated by the public relations expert, Grover Whalen. Bunting was raised and bottles of water from the Delaware River were broken over a propeller by two of Wannamaker’s nieces. A large crowd gathered along with the press and members of the American Legion to see the spectacle of the great plane, The America, duly anointed and ready for its presumed place in aviation history. Fox-Case was present to ensure that a sound newsreel special on Byrd’s historic flight would contain each element of solid news story: interviews, b-roll, and the event itself. But history would get in the way of Fox News and Fox-Case’s well laid plans. The christening of The America took place on May 21st—quite literally as Lindbergh was landing at Paris.
What was supposed to be a preamble for a historic flight turned into an almost meaningless stage drama fully documented with cutting edge media technology.
Even as the Movietone camera was rolling at Roosevelt Field that afternoon, Fox News’ editors must have been scrambling to compile coverage of Lindbergh’s triumph.4 If Fox News had envisioned a comprehensive and well-scripted news feature focusing on Byrd’s historic crossing of the Atlantic it now had no option but to run with an unscripted, somewhat chaotic, and short piece of sound film that barely captured Lindbergh’s plane while it began its sprint down the runway. Fox had not made Movietone sound interviews of Lindy or anyone affiliated with him to fill out the piece or highlight the synchronized sound technology… and as it turns out… nobody at the Roxy that weekend seemed to care. One minute of engine noise was enough to thrill the crowds.
When Lindbergh returned home in June he was already the biggest news story in the world. Cameras followed his every move and newsreel editors and audiences couldn’t get enough of Lindy… Had the world forgotten about Admiral Byrd and The America? What would Fox do will all the film shot for the feature story that never was?
The negative films for the coverage of Byrd’s attempt are part of the University of South Carolina’s Fox Movietone News Collection. These include multiple sequences of The America taking off and sound interviews with Byrd, three members of his crew and the plane’s designer, Anthony Fokker. Multiple takes of the interviews were intermingled with all the rest of the Byrd materials. One reel, Fox Movietone News story 0-199, contained one copy each of the interviews and had modern leader separating them noting that titles had been present. All but one of the titles were located in MIRC’s vaults.5 Obviously, this was a reel of assembled negative. Two questions followed this discovery:(1) when were the interviews made? and (2) was the reel as assembled ever screened for the public?
Still image from New York to Paris Flyers–outtakes, Fox News story B9061…B9064.
Dating the Movietone interviews was made easier by analysis of the Fox News silent outtake (Fox News story B9061…B9064), that documents events surrounding Byrd’s crew at Roosevelt Field. The silent cameramen seem at pains to capture the operations of the Movietone crew, a crew that is personally overseen by Movietone technical pioneer Earl Sponable of Fox-Case, who appears in two of four scenes.
The first sequence features Grover Whalen with Byrd, Bert Acosta, and George Noville. It is a nice sunny day. The second sequence shows Earl Sponable directing an interview with Anthony Fokker, the designer of the plane and an aspiring American citizen—he’s holding an American flag to wave. The film crew are wearing overcoats. The third sequences features the pilot Bert Acosta and closely resembles the second—it is the same location but Earl Sponable has removed his overcoat. The fourth sequence is the most distinct. The entire scene is photographed from the side and framed in a way so as to capture the interview subject (Admiral Byrd) as well as the Movietone crew—which again features Earl Sponable. The ground is muddy and the temperature, judging by the attire is clearly on the chilly side—note the fur coats.
The first sequence was shot, I believe, on or about June 29, the day of Byrd’s flight, but the other sequences are clearly from an earlier date. Based on the clothing and weather, the interview with Byrd in the final sequence clearly pre-dates the first sequence; this sequence probably even pre-dates Lindbergh’s arrival in Paris based on comments Byrd makes about the historic nature of the flight. A New York Times article published early on the morning of May 20, 1927 notes that a Movietone crew made interviews of Fokker, Bert Acosta and George Noville on May 19th.6 While the NYT piece doesn’t mention the interview with Byrd, the negative edge numbers for the Byrd interview indicate that the same cache of unexposed film stock was used for the Fokker interview (they are within 500 feet of each other), so they are most likely from the same day. I believe the Byrd interview could not have been made later than the morning of May 20th.
Beyond this brief appearance at the Roxy, the Byrd Movietone interviews appear never to have been shown again. For all the effort put into its production, the resulting story was clearly a let down. Had the Fox-Case Movietone crews not been so focused on orchestrating an elaborate feature story about Admiral Byrd they in all likelihood would not have had a sound camera present at Roosevelt Field that gloomy morning when Lindy flew into history.
~Written by MIRC Curator Dr. Greg Wilsbacher
1 For the history of Fox-Case’s optical sound film technology see, Przybylek, Stephanie (1999). Breaking the Silence on Film: The History of the Case Research Lab. Auburn, NY: The Cayuga Museum. See also Earl I. Sponable “Historical Development of Sound Films, Part III” Journal of the Society of Motion Picture Engineers 48.5 (May 1947)”407-422.
2 April 27th also appears to be the date on which Miggins made his first recording of a European head of state, Benito Mussolini.
3 For an overview of Lindbergh’s flight as well as the atmosphere surrounding the competition for the Orteig Prize see, Charles Jablonski, Atlantic Fever (New York: MacMillan) passim. The linked video includes both Lindbergh’s take off and the sound recordings of his return to the U.S. in June. The Fandor site hosting it erroneously credits the film to Lee De Forest—whose optical sound film was inferior to Fox-Case. While De Forest did record President Coolidge and Lindbergh in June, no De Forest crews were present for Lindbergh’s take off on May 21st.
4 Fox News cameraman Roy Anderson even cabled from St. Louis to say that he had filmed Lindy a year early and that the film was in their New York vaults.
5 USC staff probably first prepped the negative in the late 1980s or early 1990s. On the rare occasions when titles were found they were often removed because title stock was known to decompose faster than camera negative nitrate. All extant titles are now kept together for reference.
6 “Lindbergh is Set to Fly at Daylight if Weather Conditions Remain Good.” New York Times 20 May 1927: p. 1.
7 “Film House Reviews.” Variety 6 July 1927: p. 26 and “Film House Reviews.” Variety 13 July 1927: p. 26.
This post was written by UofSC graduate student Chris Fite. It is the second in a series of reports about his Spring 2016 internship at MIRC, originally posted on the author’s website. It has been reproduced here with his permission. You can read more about Chris’ experiences in the archive, including his inaugural post, here.
So, what does one do all day in moving image archives? Well, the short answer is, a lot of things. Like other special collections professionals, the staff at MIRC have myriad responsibilities, ranging from archival and curatorial to administrative and technical. Maybe a better questions is, “What is a typical day for the intern writing this blog post?”
My primary task at MIRC is film processing. In archival parlance, “processing” encompasses a variety of tasks that incorporate materials into a repository’s collections. Archivists talk about establishing “intellectual control” over materials. Basically, we want to know what we have, know how these items and collections are related to one another, and have that information available in a catalog or database of some sort. If we have physical control, that means the stuff is in our possession. If we also have intellectual control, that stuff in our possession can be of use to people. In my case, I’m dealing with WIS-TV News outtakes from the 1970s. These film reels contain footage that camera operators shot on location and brought back to the station for editing. For the most part, we don’t know which segments were used in broadcasts, but that’s not a problem. All of that footage is still a boon for researchers.
Film processing workstation. The two black gadgets with yellow handles make up the vertical film winder. Unprocessed film on the left is winding onto reel on the right.
When I sit down at my work station, I select an unprocessed reel and put it on a vertical film winder. This device allows me to go through the film manually. I inspect the film for physical condition, technical information, and content. My notes will become part of the internal database record and the public catalog record. Yes, it is indeed ironic that I spend all that time in a film repository without “watching” any films. However, we have to inspect film this way before putting it on a scanner or other machine that works at high-speed. There are two main reasons for this policy. First, the film must be in good condition for playback. Manual inspection allows us to repair weak splices, torn sprockets, and other defects. Second, time is short, and we can get the information needed for cataloging without watching the film. There’s already a massive amount of film to inspect, and screening each item would unnecessarily lengthen our processing time.
The finished product. Inspected film is wound onto a polypropylene core. Pertinent information is written on white polyester leader. The gray disc underneath is the storage can.
At the beginning and end of each reel, I add several feet of white polyester “leader.” I write whether it is the head or tail of the film, add the WIS story number, and put some technical information (color or B&W, type of film stock, and type of soundtrack). I wind the film around an inert polypropylene core that will not hasten film deterioration and put it in a film can for storage. It sounds straightforward, and it is (for the most part). As with other types of archival processing, it just takes a lot of time and attention to detail. The procedure might sound mind-numbing, and it can be after too much time at the work station. However, procedure is also comforting. It provides a way of dealing with both the shared properties of these films and the unique features of the individual items. I find all of the films to be interesting in one way or another, but celebrity appearances are always a nice surprise.
A little hard to see, but that’s William Shatner as Captain Kirk in the 1968 Columbia Christmas Parade.
~Written by UofSC graduate student and MIRC intern Chris Fite
This episode of SCETV’s For the People program, part of the South Carolina Arts Commission collection, aired on January 23, 1976. It covers the January 15 demonstrations in Columbia, SC, pressing for the creation of a national holiday in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday. The episode includes interviews with several demonstrators and speeches given outside the South Carolina State House by Rev. Matthew McCollom, Redfern II, Willie Williams, and Isaac Williams.
It took over a decade for the people who advocated for a day of recognition to achieve their goal. In 1983, President Reagan signed a bill making Dr. King’s birthday into a federal holiday, with the first observation of the new holiday in 1986.
This blog entry was written by Public History M.A. student Clara Bertagnolli as part of a project for the University of South Carolina Fall 2015 course, FILM 710: Media and Archives. Each student was tasked with the job of designing a project using archived media. Students were encouraged to take advantage of the resources available at MIRC as they developed their projects.
If you’ve been in Columbia for a few years or more, you’ve probably heard the name “Bull Street” used not to refer to the road in downtown, but the campus of the old state-run mental facility, the South Carolina State Hospital. You may have heard of the recent plans to develop the property, and the resulting attempts to preserve the State Hospital’s historic buildings and use them for research while they still stood. I participated in one attempt to preserve the campus’ history. When presented with another opportunity to study local history through media, using MIRC’s extensive collection, my first thought was to see what I could find on Bull Street.
While most locals have heard of the Bull Street property and know what it was once used for, few have heard of the Crafts-Farrow Hospital or the Palmetto State Hospital. These are two names for another state-run mental hospital in Columbia, the annex off of Farrow Road that was designed and built for the sole purpose of segregation. It was constructed in the 1910s and was used to house African-American patients only until the 1960s, when outside pressures finally pushed the South Carolina Department of Mental Health to integrate its two Columbia campuses.
MIRC’s Local Television News Collection contains a wealth of historic footage from WIS-TV featuring both campuses. One film in particular caught my eye as I browsed the footage: a 1965 film of a tour of both campuses. The desegregation process was not yet publicly underway, making this a glimpse into the late life of these segregated facilities.
The contrast, though not overwhelming, is clear. The most obvious difference is between the two signs: one, large and welcoming; the other, small and exclusionary, mounted to a gate in a chain link fence. It’s clear which is supposed to be the better place to be, even before setting foot on the campus. Passers-by are meant to know about the Bull Street campus; the Crafts-Farrow campus doesn’t achieve such importance.
Top: sign for the State Hospital at Bull Street. Bottom: sign for Crafts-Farrow Hospital.
The differences don’t stop there. While both campuses appear to be spacious, with buildings in good repair on the outside, a peek into the patients’ quarters says otherwise. Both have dormitory-style living, which back then was a common living situation for hospital patients of all kinds, giving each of them a cot-like bed in a large shared room. The white patients at the Bull Street campus, however, seem to have better treatment than the African-American ones living at Crafts-Farrow. While the aisles between beds were narrow in both, the Bull Street patients had space at both ends, while the Crafts-Farrow patients slept with their heads mere inches from their neighbors’ feet. A few more inches of personal space probably go a long way for someone living in a room like that.
Top: dormitory room at the State Hospital at Bull Street. Bottom: dormitory room at Crafts-Farrow Hospital.
A third notable difference between the two is the state of the hallways. Both look clean and in good repair (as far as I could tell from the black and white footage), but a careful look at the background of the footage reveals an interesting detail. When the tour group being followed in this film walks through the halls of one of the Bull Street campus buildings, there is no one else in sight. However, when the group walks through a hallway on the Crafts-Farrow campus, there are many people in the background, differentiated from the tour group by two key factors: 1) their clothing is more casual than that of the tour group, and 2) they are sitting on the ground, a rather unusual position for people on a walking tour. It’s unclear whether these people are staff or patients, but judging by their seating arrangements, it’s more likely that they’re patients who couldn’t find seating in their lounge areas. This is not an ideal situation for a mental facility.
Modjeska Simkins on the grounds of the State Hospital at Bull Street.
This film makes the differences between the two campuses clear, whether or not the crew from WIS-TV intended it to. They may not have been so obvious to those on the tour. One person on the tour who certainly took note of the differences was Modjeska Simkins, a local civil rights activist. In fact, she voices her displeasure with the fact that the institutions are still segregated in a WIS-TV interview three months later. No doubt, the tour made an impression on her.
~Written by USC Public History M.A. student Clara Bertagnolli
This guest post was written by Evan Meaney, Assistant Professor of Media Arts in the University of South Carolina’s School of Visual Art and Design. Professor Meaney’s work centers around the belief that the aspirations and possibilities of art are bound to the technologies that support them. Those technologies, as embodied in specific media, are only useful in so far as they can be taken apart and studied. His recently completed project, Big_Sleep™ draws heavily from the digitized materials at MIRC and includes interviews with MIRC staff. The project screened publicly for the first time in November at the Association of Moving Image Archivists annual conference in Portland, OR. He was kind enough to share his thoughts on his experience working with MIRC below.
Archivists, like hospice workers or chaplains, have a tough job. Tough, because they try to preserve meaning and value of materials in decline. They face the very things humans work hard to avoid facing. Those people who tell you to live like there’s no tomorrow do not have your best interest at heart. There will, most likely, be several tomorrows. In many ways, that is the problem. Human beings create things in the present for the future. We mediate our intentions and produce bridges, cakes, and artwork. We’re proud of these efforts, ignoring the notion that bridges will fall, cakes will sour, art will fade, and on and on until there’s not much left. We must do this. If we focused on distant, sparse endpoints, it would be difficult to get out of bed in the morning, let alone make our beds once we’ve left them. We focus on creation in the present and hope the future will just work out. That’s a very human thing to do.
The archivist’s persistence-in-the-face-of-non-existence is a kind of bravery and dedication that affects much today and will affect even more in the days to come. This is where Big_Sleep™ was born.
In 2013, I began a project with my colleague Dr. Amy Szczepanski using grant-time we had left at the supercomputing facility at Oak Ridge National Laboratory. We wanted to look at the protocological nature of decay and archivism and, if we were lucky, make a piece of artwork that connected the aesthetic, social, and computational sides of that issue. But first, we needed an archive—one with a collection that dated back to the early days of the moving image, one with a lot of material in all states of image integrity, and one with smart and dedicated curators and staff who could speak to the process of preservation. It turns out that all of those threads led us to the same place: Moving Image Research Collections (MIRC) at the University of South Carolina.
Working with the team at MIRC and utilizing their metadata systems, we were able to explore the archive in much the same way that Bill Morrison had done a decade ago when he used MIRC footage to create his masterpiece, Decasia. We were able to secure footage from the early days of nitrate film, materials concerning the first experiments with digital transfer processes, and subsequently express the lineage of content as it became increasingly virtual. Combining this material, interviews with many of the MIRC team members, and computational augmentation from the ORNL lab, we produced Big_Sleep™, a web and cinema project that looks towards the end of archivism.
Part software demo, part documentary—Big_Sleep™ concerns itself with archival impulses, molecular instability, and numbers counting down to zero. It explores problems in our archival urges. Via a single-channel desktop screencast, informatic elements ebb and flow—creating and relating interface absences. These gaps suggest that no amount of hard drive space can defy mortality. The only way to fully prepare our media for the future is to prepare ourselves for a future apart. The piece presents material from the late William Birch, one of the most important Fox Movietone cinematographers. Examining his slowly-decaying body of work, we find an argument for access in the present. Digital migrations of these early films are often met with limited, temporary success. Looking into the future, one might see a canon of obsolesce. Looking further, one might not see anything at all.
With Big_Sleep™ completeand awarded distribution through the prestigious Video Data Bank, we are able to look back and appreciate the immense wealth of knowledge we found at Moving Image Research Collections. Not only their material archive itself but the knowledge freely offered by their team was invaluable to this project. They are a resource to anyone interested in the moving image and, while it may be difficult to face a world of uncertain tomorrows and inevitable ends, MIRC makes a bold, brave statement about the value of past materials for a future that will never know how to properly thank them.
Another successful Home Movie Day! We are grateful to partners Historic Columbia and The Nickelodeon, to the families who submitted home movies for screening, and to all of you who came out to celebrate.
More than 50 Columbians dropped by during the Soda City Farmers Market to chat with our staff about the challenges of preserving and providing access to home movie collections. Many more paused to grab the free 8 and 16mm film reels we were handing out. Although aesthetically pleasing, metal reels can deform the film and trigger decomposition. Giving them away to community members is, to our minds, a nice bit of recycling. By the end of the morning, more than 50 metal reels had found a new home (the teal color moved especially quickly).
Inside the theater, a program featuring images of the city of Columbia and trips around the state from our archive’s collections ran on a loop for free, drop-in viewing. One visitor described the images as “seductive and fascinating.” Another noted how surprising and moving it can be to see children in early 20th Century fashions behaving just like children today.
At noon, we screened the three submissions for this year’s awards competition, all submitted by families that also elected to donate their collections to MIRC. I had the honor of serving on the jury panel, alongside Kristin Morris, Marketing Manager for The Nickelodeon, and John Sherrer, Director of Cultural Resources for Historic Columbia and author of the beautiful book Remembering Columbia. The three of us were charged with awarding two prizes: a Historic Prize, for the submission we judged most historically significant, and a Jury Prize, for the submission we judged to be “best in show.”
The Historic Prize went to the De La Cova Family Home Movies, which featured images of a newly-constructed, Mid-Century era suburb of Louisville, Kentucky. We on the panel felt that it was a fascinating document of the environment of the post-war building boom targeted at middle class families. These home movies give us an appreciation of what those spaces really looked like at the time they were built—a concrete idea of the facades, of the chain link fences, of the lack of privacy typical of new development. A brief appearance by comedian Cesar Romero (a cousin of the De La Cova family) didn’t hurt. Antonio De La Cova and Carlina De La Cova won a copy of John Sherrer’s book. We will work with our partners to get their film screened at a Historic Columbia event later this year.
Although we ultimately ruled in favor of the De La Cova submission, this was a tough decision. We also felt the Bergmans Family Home Movies, beautifully exposed footage of a tennis match in 1920s New York State.
The Jury Prize and the Audience Award (decided by audience ballot) went to the Grossglass Family Home Movies, which consisted of stunning Kodachrome images of a 1950s family reunion picnic in Eastern Pennsylvania. The brilliant colors and family atmosphere were moving to the entire audience, but especially to donor Dianne Calder, present in the audience, who cried seeing her family films on the big screen—the first time she had seen them in decades. For both awards, Ms. Calder won a one-year membership to the Nickelodeon Theatre as well as a prize pack, also generously supplied by the Nick.
Many thanks to our partners for donating space, time, and prizes to help make Home Movie Day 2015 a memorable event. We hope to see you next year!