Getting to Know Your CHC Staff: Part 7

Welcome back to our ongoing series featuring the staff and volunteer who work here at the CHC! This post introduces our photography consultant/photograph archives assistant, John Dalterio.

My name is Louis Dalterio, but everyone calls me by my middle name, John. I grew up in between Massachusetts and Connecticut with my mother, who was raising me on her own at the time. I was trained as an electrician in trade school, but upon graduating I discovered that I found no passion in that line of work. Instead, I wanted to be a film director.

All throughout high school I made skateboarding videos with my friends and consumed every film that the local Blockbuster sold as it went out of business. When I turned twenty I decided to attend community college to study film-making. A few months after enrolling, I attempted to make my first film with some Kickstarter funding and a small cast and crew from my local area. We discovered then that a Hollywood vision without Hollywood’s resources was nearly impossible to produce. After much deliberation, I decided to take the pragmatic route and shift my focus to a more simple and solitary art practice – photography.

In the Spring of 2012 I transferred to the Art Institute of Boston to fully pursue my interest in photography. The cityscape, chaotic and congested, could not be more different from the environment of my backwoods New England upbringing. For all its chaos, though, the city was rife with subject matter for the camera lens. Immediately I began wandering through side streets and back allies, searching for great moments to capture or interesting people to meet and make portraits of. After a few years of doing this while earning my bachelor’s degree, I had produced three photo series and two photobooks, which I am still fond of today: “Almagest,” and “Nayara.” Flipping through the pages of the image laden books, I recalled the excitement I felt when I first watched the dailies from the failed indie film. For a time, making and consuming photobooks became not only my hobby, but my sole obsession.

After the completion of my first photobook, I began working for the Cambridge Historical Commission as a photo restoration specialist. I was brought in to restore over 1,000 historical images that were to be used in the book, “Building Old Cambridge,” which was published by the MIT Press in 2016. The process of preparing the images took nearly a year and a half, which was a time of great perseverance and learning for me as I strived to produce high quality images on tight deadlines while balancing my school work. At the end of the book’s preparation process I left the commission to complete my bachelor’s degree at Lesley University, which had absorbed the Art Institute of Boston in the time since I had first enrolled. The move from Kenmore Square to Porter Square in Cambridge turned out to be a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of Downtown Boston, allowing me to think more clearly and focus on the thing that I cared about most, my art.

As I neared the completion of my bachelor’s degree, I applied for and won an artist residency in Sweden, which was a magical experience that eventually led me to enroll in Lesley’s Master’s in Photography and Integrated Media program. This path would lead me away from photography for two years to focus on interactive installation art. Now, however, approximately one year after graduating from the master’s program, I find myself coming back to photography, and, thankfully, back to the Cambridge Historical Commission. This time, however, I am making the photos instead of restoring them.

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Gilt Edge_Merged_1 copy

Mornings at the Historical Commission are very special to me. As a slow riser, I am grateful for the ability to settle in with my coffee and pastry from the shop across the street and watch the light as it pours in through the windows, pouring over the loose documents that were left out from the previous day’s studies, the various busts of noble figures that sit atop the surrounding filing cabinets and shelving units, and, eventually, the historical objects that I place in its path. I am fond of the Historical Objects Collection at the CHC, with my favorite part not being a single object, but the subtle character that each object contains, and the stories they tell when illuminated.

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In my time outside of the commission, I am a(n) freelance video producer, digital media specialist, art teacher, and artist. On a more personal level, I am a dog father to this sweet lady named Layla:

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And step-dog father to this special lady named Lulu:

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Thank you, John!

Modern Monday: Pusey Library at Harvard University

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1976 image included in Architectural Record 09-1976. Edward Jacoby photographer.
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Pusey Library as seen from Widener Library steps.

The Pusey Library in Harvard Yard was conceived from a 1960 report by Harvard, which outlined the needs for future expansion and growth for the university. The potential for expansion of facilities within Harvard Yard was surveyed between 1968 and 1970 by Hugh Stubbins, who examined the 22-acre area for circulation and the possibility for additional structures. Three years later, Stubbins was commissioned to design a new library in Harvard Yard.

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Harvard University: An Inventory for Planning, 1960. Copy in CHC Library.
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Pusey Library viewed from Harvard Yard.

The new library was to be named after Nathan Pusey, president of Harvard University from 1953-1971. President Pusey oversaw one of the largest building programs in Harvard’s history (second only to President Lowell). In 1957, Pusey announced the start of a program for Harvard College, a $82.5 million effort that raised $20 million more and resulted in three additions to the undergraduate House system: Quincy House (1959), Leverett Towers (1960), and Mather House (1970). During the 1960s, the Program for Harvard Medicine raised $58 million. In April 1965, the Harvard endowment exceeded $1 billion for the first time. Pusey left Harvard in June 1971 to become the second president of New York’s Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.

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1964 portrait of President Pusey. Courtesy of Radcliffe College Archives.

Hugh Stubbins believed that an above-ground library would be too constricted in the Yard and he began plans for a subterranean structure. From the beginning, the proposed library was envisioned as an interconnecting link among three existing libraries – Widener, Houghton and Lamont, all within close proximity. Its roof serves as a link as well, with paths and landscaping reinforcing the existing circulation network in the yard. From the exterior, the Pusey Library is a slanting grass-covered embankment only visible from some areas in Harvard Yard. Its roof is a stone-rimmed platform of earth containing a lawn, trees and shrubs.

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Plan of Pusey Library.
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Site plan and level one plan of Pusey Library.

The main entrance to the library is built into the slope of the hill with a broad band of brick paving at the ground level which forms a moat between the berm and the window wall. The moat allows for light to reach the interior on the perimeter walls without completely disrupting the landscape. Alexander Calder’s “The Onion” sculpture marks the main entry to the library.

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Current view of “The Onion” by Alexander Calder.
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1976 image included in Architectural Record 09-1976. Edward Jacoby photographer.


At the center, a two-story light well between Houghton and Lamont is apparent seemingly to only those who look for it. Sunk down two floors into the ground, the well is home to a Japanese Maple tree, which just peaks out from its subterranean home providing a clear statement of presence for the library.

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Interior sunken courtyard with large maple tree.

Stubbins even designed the interior spaces, using a very 70’s design aesthetic. Nylon carpeting was used throughout except in bookstack areas. Most of the furniture was made of oak, as was the trim work. Walls were covered with a textured vinyl fabric with a flat off-white, non-reflective surface to reduce sound reverberation and create a sense of warmth in the otherwise bunker-like building. The interior spaces have since been modernized to meet current needs for the library.

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Interior design by Hugh Stubbins’ office. Photographed by Edward Jacoby, 1976.

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While underground construction is not needed or desirable in every location, it was brilliantly executed at the Pusey Library. Former Director of the Cambridge Historical Commission and historian, Bainbridge Bunting has said, “No other building has added so much to Harvard Yard yet disturbed its integrity so little”. We could not agree more!

 

 

 

 

Sources:

Architectural Record. September 1976, pages 97-102.

HOLLIS Images http://id.lib.harvard.edu/images/olvsite32606/catalog

Nathan Marsh Pusey, Biography. Harvard University. https://www.harvard.edu/about-harvard/harvard-glance/history-presidency/nathan-marsh-pusey

Radcliffe Archives, Pusey Hall under construction. Images.

Deteriorating Negatives

This blog post was authored by our spring Simmons University archives intern, Brittany Fox.

Sometimes the life-cycles of records must come to an end. Despite unremitting efforts to preserve our holdings, the nature of the material can lead to irreparable damage. Recalling that April 21-27 was Preservation Week, today we are highlighting how sometimes items must be removed from a collection to protect the safety of other records.

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Certain negatives from our Cambridge Engineering image collection have deteriorated due to improper chemical processing during their creation. The negatives have seized, buckled, and bubbled, which has compromised their physical integrity. There is no way to stabilize this type of deterioration and the mutation can cause damage to other negatives in physical proximity. When negatives undergo this type of decay, they can give off acetate gas. This anomaly, also known as Vinegar Syndrome due to its vinegar-like smell, can initiate similar decay in nearby negatives. Therefore, we have decided to discard these negatives.

But fret not, we have digitized and saved them as high-resolution images. Although they will no longer be preserved in their original form, we have maintained access to the content through digitization. Print copies have also been created as a backup precaution.

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Scanned version of negative, 33-35 Pearl Street
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Mass Ave at Everett St

While the preservation of our negatives is a major priority, it is also important to learn about their context as well. They were part of a collection of over a thousand 5” x 7” negatives dating from the late 1920s through the 1960s that were given to the Commission by Cambridge former City Engineer James Rice in the early 1980s. Between the 1920s and 1940s a member of the City Engineer’s staff functioned as the city’s official photographer, collaborating with the City Solicitor, the Department of Public Works, and the Cambridge Police Department. Whenever a citizen filed a claim or directed attention toward an issue or hazard that arose in the city, such as potholes, dangerous sidewalks, and motor vehicle accidents, the City Engineer send a photographer to the site. These photographs were used when the complaints were taken to the city courts to be rectified.

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Graflex Speed Graphic Camera

The negatives were acquired by the CHC along with the City Engineer’s Graflex Speed Graphic camera. In order to make an image the photographer would have inserted a sheet of unexposed film into a film holder in the darkness of a light-proof bag. Once secure so that no light would inadvertently expose the negative, the film holder would be inserted into the camera. A film holder could accommodate two pieces of film, so to make a dozen images the photographer would have to prepare and carry six bulky film holders. This particular type of camera has a focal plane shutter and a removable dark slide. It was meticulous work to get just one photographic negative and we have hundreds in the collection! Executive Director Charles Sullivan took several photos with this camera for publication in the Commission’s 1988 book, East Cambridge. Large format film and photo-processing labs are difficult or impossible to find today, so the camera will probably never be used again.

Some of the damaged negatives pulled from the collection exhibit automobile accidents, buckling sidewalks, and an exposed pipe in a giant hole. While they were intended as evidence for court hearings, the images also have secondary uses. They incorporate everyday snapshots of life in Cambridge between the 1920s-1940s, from the fashion of the passersby to the models of the cars. While these few images do not tell a very broad story, the collection in its entirety has a high future research value.

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Automobile crash, Belmont and Bird St.

If you are interested in this collection or any of our other resources, please make a research appointment at histcomm@cambridgema.gov. Our research hours are: Monday: 4:00-7:00 pm | Tuesday: 2:00-4:00 pm | Wednesday – Thursday: 9:30-11:30 and 2-4 pm.

Daggett Chocolate Company

daggett chocolate ad

In honor of June as Candy Month, we look at one of Cambridge’s largest chocolate makers from the early to mid twentieth century. Candy making was a major industry in Cambridge, with over 66 confectionery manufacturers listed in the city directory at its peak in 1946.

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View of 400 Main Street in the 1980s

Fred L. Daggett first started his company as a small candy store in Chelsea in 1891. By 1921 he was overseeing manufacturing in seven different buildings throughout the city. In 1925, in order to concentrate production and distribution and to secure more manufacturing area, Daggett built his Cambridge plant at 40 and 50 Ames Street and 400 Main Street. Completed by 1928, the buildings were designed by architect/engineer Mark Linenthal who would later specialize in racetrack and stadium architecture.

daggett ad

Daggett Chocolates acquired other companies, resulting in the production of more than 40 brands of chocolates. By 1930, Daggett employed over 400 people and produced 24,000 boxes of chocolate-coated candies a day. The company sold brands including Daggett, Page & Shaw, Durand, Lowney’s, and Apollo. Daggett not only produced candy, but also the boxes the candy came in. The factory had three separate unions: one for the confectionery workers, one for the box makers, and one for the printers.

The company also had a special fruit department. Daggett owned and operated a strawberry plant in Virginia where strawberries were preserved in sugar to make fillings for their chocolates. Because of this venture, Daggett also had an impact on ice cream and soda fountain business in the area. They supplied thousands of gallons of syrups and crushed fruits to druggists and ice cream manufacturers.

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View from corner of Main and Ames Streets

Fred L. Daggett died in 1958. The company continued for only a few more years. In 1961, the company sold the recipes to New England Confectionery Company (NECCO), and sold the buildings to MIT.

Sources:

Cambridge Chronicle, March 27, 1926; October 23, 1958

Cambridge Historical Society, https://cambridgehistory.org/candy/daggett.html

MIT Architecture Inventory Form, November 2016