Oberlin Heritage Center Blog

Greetings history enthusiasts and arbitrary visitors alike! My name is Austin Spenzer and this summer I am interning with the Oberlin Heritage Center through an organization called Leadership Lorain County. This upcoming fall semester I will be a senior at Miami University of Ohio. I grew up near the shores of Lake Erie in the quaint city of Avon Lake. Currently I am working towards two majors: French and Political Science. The Oberlin Heritage Center appealed to me because it deals strongly with the concepts of freedom, social change coupled with political struggle, and equality. By working with the Oberlin Heritage Center, I will be better able to contextualize the current political scene through the understanding of past predicaments and precedents that led to its unfolding. Also, Oberlin in itself is very interesting to analyze and study considering its immense breadth of history! I feel my work here at the Oberlin Heritage Center greatly compliments my own studies by giving me more perspective into History, but also practically I will learn about the inner workings of a small friendly museum organization.

Austin Spenzer:
Intern

For my first project at the Oberlin Heritage Center, we decided to redo the exhibits in the hallway of the Vineway Building at 82 S. Main. Upon inspecting the area to decide what it was exactly I wanted to display, it came to my attention there was an abundance of trash around the showcase. This made me think: Frances Jewett would likely not approve of this discarded waste!

It is important to note that Frances Gulick Jewett was a former prominent resident of Oberlin and lived in the Jewett House on S. Professor Street (hence the name Jewett house). She was born on the island of Ponape in the Caroline Islands, Micronesia. Her parents were Christian missionaries who were there to spread the gospel and their God’s message. After spending most of her early years in the islands of Hawaii, she attended Lake Erie College in Painesville, Ohio. It was at the time an all girl school, but has since become a coeducational college. She then spent a year in Europe, thence traveling to Japan where she met her husband, Frank Jewett. They came to Oberlin and later moved into the Jewett house in 1884. Frances Jewett was an author and wrote extensively about health and hygiene. She thought it would be in the best interest of the community to compile the information she learned about health and hygiene into a series of elementary text books designed to enlighten youngsters.

I decided to read up on some of these elementary books and I started my analysis with her book titled, Town and City (copyright: 1906). Jewett starts in chapter one with commentary about the growth of cities. She compares tribal living conditions to that of urban landscapes, and how someone like an “Indian may also be more vigorous and able to run faster, but as a rule he cannot in a single day do so much as the city man, either for himself or for his neighbor.” What she means by this is that when individuals organize into communities, they simultaneously are able to provide more goods and services to one another. Jewett bluntly states, “indeed, that is the one great advantage of our cities: people are close enough together to help each other at the shortest notice and in the best way.”

She goes on to describe the development of towns into cities, using New York City as an example. She elaborates on how initially it was far less densely populated and the spacing between buildings allowed for vegetation. However, with time these gaps between buildings closed, populations rose, and vegetation disappeared. Consequently, as a city develops, there is potential for overcrowding to reach a point where, “everything suffers. Careless people using dark halls, cellars, and bath rooms are not neat in disposing of their rubbish, their garbage, and their soiled clothes. They act as if they thought the darkness were going to save them from disease as well as from disgrace.” Thus, not only do landscapes suffer, but the individual becomes unhealthy from trash abundance and lack of open space.

Frances Gulick Jewett

Although Oberlin is vastly different in comparison to New York City, there exist some similarities, such as population growth. According to the United States Census Bureau, as of 2013, Oberlin had a population of 8,390 persons with a three year population growth rate of 1.6 percent (or about a growth of 104 people between the years of 2010 to 2013). Despite the fact Oberlin seems to be growing at a negligible rate, it is nevertheless growing. If the population growth rate follows that particular three year trend, being 104 people every three years, by 2064 the population will grow by an amount of about 1733 people. This will mean a definite increase in trash. Consider this: the E.P.A records that the average American creates 4.5 pounds of trash a day, meaning in a 365 day year, roughly 1642.5 pounds of trash. Therefore, just the additional population of 1733 people to Oberlin in 2064 could generate nearly 2,846,452.5 pounds of trash in that year alone. One must remember that is only the theoretical additional population, not the preexisting population…

From the perspective of Frances Jewett, in order to keep the people, buildings and landscape of Oberlin in optimum condition, it is necessary to reinforce the civic duty of cleanliness. One must thwart the urge of individuals to discard their trash in places other than waste receptacles, especially as the population grows and the levels of trash increase. She states simply that, “There are two reasons, then, why every part of a city should be kept in healthful condition:

1. Because cities need men and women with strong bodies.

2. Because cities need men and women with strong characters.”

From these readings, I realized I could make two interesting exhibits in 82. S. Main that would provide information about Frances, or colloquially know as “Fannie”, Jewett and simultaneously provoke spectator’s minds to be cleaner. To do this, I decided that I will create two scenes, both of which will be miniature cities. The first scene would display what would be a seemingly utopian city of cleanliness. It would have clean streets, happy people and bountiful waste receptacles; it would be the ideal city that I was promoting. However, the other scene would be known as, “The City of Flies”. This city would be utterly decrepit and would essentially be controlled by a legion of flies. My idea for this came from the novel Town and City, for it says, “Why do we carry on an endless fight against them? For the simple reason that flies never wash or wipe their  feet” and “This danger from the fly is very real and because of it every house, every town, and every city should carry on a constant crusade in behalf of cleanliness.” Considering flies in Fannie Jewett’s eyes were the epitome of squalor, the fly became the impetus for the juxtaposition to the utopian city. The scene will depict giant flies swarming over heaps of discarded trash, crumbling streets, and unhappy people. In both scenes, I will include quotations from Mrs. Jewett’s text books, likely in the form of street signs and advertisements.

Through these model cities, I hope to covey to the onlooker how necessary it is for one to be clean, and exercise to ensure their health. Perhaps after viewing these cities and the various facts that will be posted around them, people will become more conscious of cleaning up after themselves in common places such as the area around the showcase. I feel these showcases can be effective considering their proximity to The Bridge, which is a technology center for children and the community. If kids look at these cases and read the signs, perhaps it will inspire them to be clean and healthy, similarly to how Mrs. Jewett sought to achieve this goal with her elementary text books.  I am sure Frances Jewett would be pleased. I plan to finish these showcases near mid July so swing on by and take a look!

The following poem, which can be found in Town and City, portrays the sentiment behind the showcases quintessentially…

NEIGHBOR MINE

There are barrels in the hallways,

Neighbor mine;

Pray be mindful of them always,

Neighbor mine.

If you’re not devoid of feeling,

Quickly to those barrels stealing,

Throw in each banana peeling,

Neighbor mine!

Do not drop the fruit you’re eating,

Neighbor mine,

On the sidewalks, sewer, or grating,

Neighbor mine.

But lest you and I should quarrel,

Listen to my little carol;

Go and toss it in the barrel,

Neighbor mine!

Look! whene’er you drop a paper,

Neighbor mine,

In the wind it cuts a caper,

Neighbor mine

Down the street in madly courses,

And should fill you with remorses

When you see it scare the horses,

Neighbor mine!

Paper-cans were made for papers,

Neighbor mine;

Let’s not have this fact escape us,

Neighbor mine.

And if you lend a hand,

Soon our city dear shall stand

As the cleanest in the land,

Neighbor mine.

by Michelle Myers, Leadership Lorain County Intern

Upon leaving my summer internship at the Oberlin Heritage Center and graduating from Swarthmore College in two years, I plan on going to nursing school and becoming a midwife. I have taken an interest in Dr. A.C. Siddall, an OB/GYN who practiced in the Oberlin Heritage Center’s Monroe House for twenty years, not only because of the feats he accomplished as a medical practitioner, but also for his engaging and vigorous writings. While looking through a file of his research papers, historical writings, and autobiographical keepings at the Oberlin College Archives, I came upon a paper he had written the year of his retirement, 1973, titled “From Practicing Obstetrician to Amateur Historian.” This paper reflects on his career and looks forward to a life of continuous medical curiosity. Now, as I look toward my future journey into the medical field, I find inspiration in what he has written. It is an example of what I may have to look forward to, as I pause and we both, Dr. Siddall and I, can breathe, reflect, and consider the wonderful medical history that had been laid before us.

A Clair Siddall, M.D., was a doctor of obstetrics and gynecology who practiced in Oberlin for 40 years. He developed the first hormonally-based pregnancy test in English literature, delivered 5,000 babies, and served as a medical missionary in China for nine years. He did all he could for the medical practice of Oberlin in his lifetime, ultimately co-founding the Oberlin Clinic and supporting the expansion of the Allen Memorial Hospital, now Mercy Allen Hospital. He lived an incredibly meaningful life, both by way of his own driving force and the inspirations of the past. He wrote paper after paper dealing with the medical history of Oberlin during his practice. In “From Practicing Obstetrician to Amateur Historian,” Dr. Siddall discussed just how much history inspired him and could inspire others, saying “…it is sufficient for this presentation to show how any physician can enlarge his horizon by more or less active interest in the history of his own profession.” Rather than viewing his retirement as a time of complete rest, Dr. Siddall used this free time to continue exploring his curiosity, as well as making up for lost time:

“So it is that now I can follow a beautiful schedule of working at my desk until noon every day then being flexible in the afternoon. Several subjects claim my attention now,
1. History of Chinese Medicine
2. Profiles of all physicians who have ever worked in Oberlin-includes the college
3. Eunuchism
4. Religious beliefs of the common man
[5.] Uninterrupted meals with my wife who has suffered interruptions and delays and cancellations for forty years, without complaint.”

Researching history inspired Dr. Siddall to reach higher standards of innovation in his own practice. He studied marvelous icons of medical history, including Hippocrates, Galen, Soranus, Sydenham, and others. He created an extensive guide of Oberlin’s history of medical practices and practitioners, which is now at the Oberlin College Archives. While he attended professional meetings on vacation, he made an effort to visit sites of medical innovation in the field of obstetrics. On one trip, he visited a monument of John L. Richmond in Newton, Ohio, who, in 1827, “carried out singlehanded, using only his pocket instruments, the first professional cesarean in the country.” Richmond performed this cesarean under the light of one candle in a log cabin. Dr. Siddall said of this character, “[s]uch courage stirs my imagination.” Dr. Siddall embraced a similarly courageous and self-assured approach in his own practice with the Pap smear, a screening test used for the detection of cervical cancer. He was one of the first individual practitioners to introduce cancer detection to the medical office. This was in the 1950’s, a point in history when physicians were skeptical of the American Cancer Association’s call for frequent cancer screenings. Because he was able to identify cancer early, Dr. Siddall was able to treat and save patients’ lives.

Dr. A.C. Siddall and his wife, Estelle.

Dr. Siddall was a historian, and at the same time, he was a medical practitioner who did things worth writing about. These factors resulted from each other, in a wheel of innovation. Medical practice is a result of medical history, and medical practice creates medical history. I believe this can be most emphasized by Dr. Siddall’s words: “So we learn that to make history takes precedence over and is more satisfying than to read history. However I never cease to be inspired by those who have gone before as pioneers in our specialty.” Indeed, these pioneers helped form Dr. Siddall’s practice and may continue to inspire medical practitioners of the future. For me, Dr. Siddall has been one of these moving pioneers in imagination. Studying medical history offers a clearer understanding to how the medical practices of today have developed. It also inspires a medical practitioner to come up with innovative and life-saving ways of handling his or her practice. I take historical research seriously because it has and will save lives.

Sources:

Siddall Papers, Oberlin College Archives.

“From Practicing Obstetrician to Amateur Historian”, Oberlin College Archives.

My name is Michelle Myers, and I am a summer intern at the Oberlin Heritage Center through the Leadership Lorain County Internship Program. This is my second summer here. I was born and raised in Elyria, and I am currently working on my bachelor’s degree in psychology at Swarthmore College. This is why I have come to the Heritage Center for my second summer: because I love learning about and talking to people.

History, as I have come to learn it, is not facts. History is stories. History is the light in someone’s eyes when they recall an event that made headlines. History is a grandfather telling his grandchildren about the war at a family event. The past is what connects us all together. It is all of our stories interwoven in a conversation where people recall the good old days, the not so good days, and feel less alone. History is not the history of individuals, but of a common humanity who has been through and seen it all. History is what makes us live forever.

This is why I love giving tours of the three buildings at the Oberlin Heritage Center. I love when a visitor recognizes an item in one of the historical houses and says, “My grandmother has one of those in her house.” Someone else says, “I used to use one of those when I was a kid.” Then a conversation starts. People talk to each other. A human connection is made. Meaning is made out of washboards and rug beaters.

When a woman and I talk about the hardships a mother with her child could have faced trying to find freedom from slavery, and the visitor is nodding her head, her eyes deeply concerned, I feel as if something beyond our words is being fulfilled. She understands what it means to work hard, to face destitution. Both women understand. It is all three of us in this conversation. We live through each other’s thoughts and words. This is what history looks like.

But history is also the amazement and hilarity that ensues when first graders realize what a chamber pot is. They get on their hands and knees on the wooden, creaky floors; look under the rope-wrung bed; see the white, shiny bowl; and cry “People would poop in that?!” Maybe they imagine a life, long before televisions and video games, without bathrooms. They have something to go home and tell their parents about. They gave me something to remember. They fill these buildings with laughter and excitement. They keep these buildings and the Oberlin Heritage Center alive. Thank you to all of you, past and present, who keep this place alive.

By Mary Anne Cunningham, Assistant to the Director

Last month, OHC staff visited with Michael and Dorene McAndrews of Brooksville, Florida, who traveled to Oberlin as part of a journey to research and document the history of their restored 1940 DeSoto, once hailed as “America’s Family Car.” The couple purchased the car two years ago, and since then have lovingly and painstakingly restored it to its former glory. Mike and Dorene not only are proud of their pristine restoration, but they’ve enjoyed all the history lessons they’ve acquired through their automobile. Early in this process, they discovered gas ration coupons and a tire inspection record that were used during WWII by the automobile’s original owner, Clyde A. Rawson (1879-1974), of Oberlin. The McAndrews began doing research via Ancestry.com. Some months later, they discovered a copy of Mr. Rawson’s WWII Draft Registration card that listed Oberlin College as his place of employment. The couple requested the assistance of the Oberlin College Archives, the Oberlin Heritage Center and most recently have spoken with a few current residents of Oberlin who remember Mr. Rawson proudly driving his 1940 DeSoto through the streets of Oberlin.

1940 DeSoto Coupe
(Photo courtesy of Mike & Dorene McAndrews)

The couple compiled a biographical sketch about Mr. Rawson as well as the beautiful DeSoto that they are preserving as a piece of American History. Clyde was the athletic equipment manager at Warner Gymnasium on the Oberlin College campus for 37 years and loved his DeSoto so much that after purchasing the car new in 1940, he never purchased another vehicle and drove it until his death in 1974. He kept the car in his garage at his home on Lorain Street and proudly showed it to admirers who came by knocking on his door asking to see the car.

Original Owner Clyde Rawson
(Photo courtesy of the Oberlin College Archives)

Mike and Dorene have also explored the history of the DeSoto Automobile which was part of Chrysler Corporation from 1928 – 1961. Thanks to the record keeping of the Chrysler Historical Society, they learned that the car was shipped to McDonough Motors in Cleveland in December 1939. In old newspaper articles the couple found about Mr. Rawson when they first began their research, there was information about Mr. Rawson visiting his Mother at the Cleveland Clinic and he himself being in the Cleveland Clinic Hospital. The pieces had finally all come together.

Mike and Dorene expanded their research to include materials on gasoline and rubber tire rationing, coupon books and promotional materials that rallied citizens around the wartime efforts as well as learning a great deal about America’s home front during World War II. Not only do they now feel a kinship with the car’s original owner, they are thrilled that they’ve been able to drive the local neighborhood streets upon which their vehicle traveled nearly 75 years ago and walk down the same sidewalks where Mr. Rawson went to work at Oberlin College.

You probably have a treasure of your own that can initiate a fun and fascinating new history lesson for you and your family!

For a few years, I have conducted a self-designed research project using oral histories and the Oberlin College Archives. Never before had I considered working on the other side of the archive, or to be the person who preserves these historical documents. After a month of serving as an oral history processing assistant at the Oberlin Heritage Center, I now better understand the process of preserving the history I’ve been studying for so long. I have always viewed historical research as one big puzzle where I find little pieces of a story that seem unrelated, but then I find links that tie them all together. I never saw archiving as a puzzle, or even like research, until I started working at the Heritage Center. One month later, I really regret my dismissive attitude toward the hard work and problem solving that preservation and archiving entail.

My Winter Term project consisted of taking the oldest tapes of Series I of the oral history archive and digitizing them so they can be preserved much longer than they can be on tapes. Over the month, I digitized all of the tapes from 1979 and 1982, as well as some of the 1983 collection and an occasional later tape. I spent each day playing the entire oral histories in a converter that created a digital file from a cassette tape. Afterward, I edited the file to take out large breaks between the sides of the tape and in the beginning of the interview. Some days, this task went smoothly. On other days, I regretted thinking it was so simple. There were a few days that I spent trying to solve a mystery, like tracking down tapes or finding out if an interview was really only 8 minutes long or why a tape stopped playing after so many minutes. I quickly realized that archival work was not just a mundane task that was necessary so that researchers could do their work. It is its own kind of research and problem solving; there are still pieces to fit together.

In addition to better understanding preservation of oral histories not recorded in digital format, I also learned more about Oberlin’s history. Although I have been researching Oberlin for a few years, my topic is very specific. With little time to finish my research project each summer before I must present it, I haven’t had the luxury of learning a lot of historical context, especially about the town. My project has always focused heavily on Oberlin College rather than the town, and only in the 1960s and 70s. I have learned some things about businesses in the town from alumni with whom I’ve spoken, but never about the 1950s or earlier. Listening to the Series I oral histories at the Heritage Center allowed me to learn more about Oberlin life, such as dating, racial tensions, and the depression, which helped me situate how and why the 1960s happened as they did—though perhaps, I’ve gotten even more confused and need to do more research!

A 1982 interviewee, Mildred Haines, said that when she left in 1920 and returned in 1975, one of the biggest changes was the appearance of the students, but that underneath, they were just as smart and dedicated as they were decades before. After only hearing the students’ side to the story, hearing a town impression of Oberlin College students was really interesting and highly relevant to my own interests even before I came to the Heritage Center. My research emphasizes that Oberlin’s history reflects and contributes to American history. After listening to oral histories of about 30 residents, I have a much more holistic—but hardly complete—view of Oberlin’s history. I used to think that an archivist’s job was to aid researchers. Now I realize that there is so much more to archives and places like the Oberlin Heritage Center and that they have a very rightful place next to researchers.

Brittany Craig, OC ’13