Exhibit Preparation for Governor John Connally’s Suit

Posted on October 7, 2013 by ARIS Staff

For several months, TSLAC Conservation has been preparing for TSLAC’s upcoming exhibit, “Texas Investigates: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy and Wounding of Governor John B. Connally.” This exhibit will commemorate the 50^th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination on November 22, 1963, in Dallas, TX. The exhibit’s centerpiece, on display for the first time since 1964, is the suit worn by Texas Governor John Connally in the Kennedy motorcade. Connally was non-fatally wounded by gunfire that day, and his suit bears silent testimony to the tragic event.

Careful support and cushioning are required in the display of historical clothing so that fragile garments are not damaged by their own weight. In July, conservator Sarah Norris began the process of customizing the dress forms on which the Connally suit and shirt will be displayed. Shoulder supports and stomach padding were created to fit the exact measurements of the clothing. Arm and leg supports were also added. Though the shoulder supports are highly structured, the arm supports are very pliable so that the figure can be dressed with minimal stress to the garment. A slick, spun polyester fabric allows the shirt to slip easily over the arm supports and onto the customized dress form.

Dress forms before and during customization. All supports are made with archival materials and sewn by hand to fit the measurements of the shirt and suit.

The French cuffs on Governor Connally’s shirt posed a special challenge. These cuffs must be exhibited folded in the manner they were worn to allow logical display of the bullet holes in that region. Cufflinks were originally used to maintain this fold, but the Governor’s cufflinks were not included when the suit was donated to TSLAC. To solve this problem, Norris constructed two small stays made of linen thread, museum board, and cotton muslin. The stays function like the original cufflinks, but their color and texture blends with the shirt without drawing visual attention to non-original items.

The small size and neutral cotton fabric of the cuff stays allow them to blend sympathetically with the shirt.

“Texas Investigates: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy and Wounding of Governor John B. Connally” opens October 22. In addition to the Connally suit, the exhibit will spotlight Texas state investigations of the assassination, including those conducted by the Attorney General’s Office and the Department of Public Safety. TSLAC Conservation welcomes the opportunity to prepare these meaningful items for public observation and commemoration.

A Different Kind of Pocket Map Treatment

Posted on May 28, 2013 by ARIS Staff

In the lab in May is Pressler’s Map of Texas from 1867. Charles Pressler was a noted draftsman and cartographer who immigrated to Texas from Prussia. He created well-known Texas maps while working with land empresario Jacob de Cordova and with the Texas General Land Office.

Pressler’s Map of Texas is a pocket map, which is the 19^th century version of the Rand McNally road map one might have carried in a car’s glove box prior to GPS systems. Pocket maps are generally large, hand-colored documents that fold down into a small, textile-covered case that is stamped with gold foil and other decorative elements.

Pressler’s Map of Texas, an 1867 pocket map.

Because repeated folding can damage fragile paper, conservators often remove pocket maps from their cases and flatten them for future storage and use. While this treatment is usually the most responsible course of action, it detracts somewhat from the item’s artifactual value. After treatment, the map is quite physically different.

In this case, we encountered a unique circumstance: there are actually two copies of this item in our collection. It so happens that the other copy has already been removed from its case and flattened. Since the flattened copy will be the primary access copy, this created an unusual opportunity to preserve a pocket map in its original format.

First, creases and wrinkles received local humidification and flattening to help the item fold more efficiently. Then, existing tears at fold lines were mended with wide strips of Japanese tissue and wheat starch paste.

Mending tears at fold lines.

The map was carefully folded back into its case and the front board (detached) was reattached with toned moriki tissue. Because there is another access copy, this pocket map has been returned to its original format.

Repaired case with map folded inside.

Conserving and Preserving, This Month and Beyond

Posted on January 25, 2013 by ARIS Staff

My shortage of January posts can be attributed to my thorough immersion in the planning stages of a significant effort to digitize TSLAC’s collection of cassette recordings of the proceedings of the Texas Senate, from 1972 – 2006. These recordings document the laws and the lawmakers that shaped our state. Listen to a sampling of the topics and colorful personalities in the collection here.

My work in the last month draws attention to the contrast between preservation strategies for books and paper vs. audio media. For example, in January, most of the time I normally would have spent working with my hands at the workbench was instead spent working with the computer at my desk. Conservation strategies for books and paper more frequently involve physical repair; for audio media, they more frequently involve transfer to new media, or, in my case, planning for that transfer. While I’ve advocated in lectures and research for the artifactual value of audio media, practical realities dictate rapid transfer in the face of chemical decay and format obsolescence. Digitization is just one reality for books and paper; it’s often the only reality for audio.

What’s interesting is that our decisions about whether to preserve original media route books and paper into the practice of conservation, while they route audio media into the practice of preservation. Conservators are trained to work physically, and to use both science and craft knowledge to sustain cultural materials in their physical form. Preservation administrators – note that extra word in the title – are trained to manage environment, storage, exhibition, people, money, etc., to sustain cultural materials in viable forms. In theory, it’s much the same; in practice, it’s all different.

My feeling is that as the print and digital worlds continue to negotiate their territories, conservation and preservation approaches will continue to unify. In libraries and archives, one sees many examples of this: conservation treatment supports digitization projects; then, digital access drives increased physical use and, presumably, wear. But no one person can know all facets of such disparate practices. That’s why hybrid library-conservation-preservation training programs like the one at the University of Texas were so important, and why we can hope they may be again in the future.

In the meantime, I’m glad for the opportunity to help prolong the lifetime of the Senate tapes, and I look forward to returning to the book and paper workbench in the near future.

Custom Housing for the Journeay Violin

Posted on December 7, 2012 by ARIS Staff

In November, I built a custom housing for an object in our collections known as the Journeay Violin. The violin was made by Henry Journeay while he was imprisoned in Mexico during the 1842 Mier Expedition. Journeay was a skilled woodworker, and is thought to have later made the instrument’s wood and glass case.

Journeay Violin

My housing, modeled roughly on the common drop-spine book box, aims to protect the instrument and its case during storage and to allow for easy access for periodic display. My basic design comprises a textile-covered, paper lined tray and a large, textile-covered box lid. The lid rests on a small ledge inside the tray when closed. The instrument case need not be fully removed from the box for viewing; it can stay in the tray except when needed for exhibit.

As often happens with custom housings, design demands reveal themselves during the construction process. Here, I initially built a flat-bottomed tray, only to find that this would unduly challenge staff members trying to pick up the item, inviting them to slide one end of the case precariously off the table to establish a grip. I then built feet for the tray from laminate, textile-covered binder’s board. I mounted the feet underneath the instrument case’s feet to support its weight. This created a safer, more user-friendly design with finger room under the tray.

Textile-covered tray corner with foot

One of the efficient features of a drop-spine box is that its attractive covering material also adds strength by reinforcing its cardboard joints. Unfortunately, the violin’s box lid couldn’t share this efficiency, because I couldn’t cut a large enough piece of textile to cover the box in the continuous, traditional style. Instead, I reinforced all the lid joints inside and out with gummed linen tape before covering with textile panels for aesthetics only.

Lid joints were reinforced with linen tape.

One further similarity between this box and a drop-spine box is how air suction is created upon opening. Because this box is more enclosed than a typical drop-spine box, it actually creates a much stronger vacuum. (Trust me, it was rather alarming the first time I tried to open it.) In order to open this box, it is first necessary to break its air seal by gently depressing its long, flexible walls. After this, opening is quite easy. Instructions have been attached.

Box label

This exercise highlights some of the overall challenges of building custom housings. The goal is to balance the needs of the object against the needs of those using the object, while hopefully avoiding completely reinventing the wheel. While I briefly considered a version of this housing with break-away walls, I decided such a design would be too complex for hurried reference staff to operate with confidence. As always, housing projects are problems with many solutions – perhaps you have one!

Completed custom housing for violin and case

Treating a Civil War Map

Posted on July 13, 2012 by ARIS Staff

In July, I’ve been treating a hand-drawn Civil War map from the Sam Houston Research Center in Liberty, TX. The document was glued to a backing board with historical annotations describing Burr’s Ferry, a site where Texas anticipated that Union forces would attempt to enter from Louisiana.

The hand-written annotations on the backing board raise several perplexing issues about the map. First, the annotations indicate that a battle took place at Burr’s Ferry in September 1863. However, other historical resources indicate that while a Burr’s Ferry invasion was expected, it never actually materialized. Of further interest, the map itself seems not to depict Burr’s Ferry at all; it shows a region about 80 miles to the southeast, near modern day Melville, LA. Though informative in their own way, historical labels and descriptions can sometimes raise more questions than they answer.

The darkened, brittle map was spot-glued to its backing board. Over time, it had fractured around the glued regions and large sections had been lost. Subsequent caretakers had responded by applying tape extensively across the front of the map and enclosing the item in Mylar. Accordingly, this treatment offered many opportunities for physical and aesthetic improvement.

The first priority was to remove the map from its acidic backing board, which was exacerbating discoloration and brittleness. The first step toward this was to remove the tape. Fortunately, the tape was commercial Filmoplast of relatively recent application, and it was able to be removed mechanically.

Removing Filmoplast tape

The glue holding the map to the board was water-soluble, and likely animal-based. Local humidification through a vapor membrane was partially successful, but proved too prone to leave board fibers attached to the map. Greater success was achieved with direct application of deionized water in a fine, aerosol mist. Very slow, careful work was necessary to avoid damaging the map and to minimize disturbance to the backing board.

Removing map from backing board.

Next, the map was washed and deacidified to reduce brittleness and discoloration, and to add a pH buffer to guard against ongoing deterioration. Because the map was severely fractured, I used a flat, controlled washing method called blotter washing that relies on capillary action to pull degradation components into thick, dampened paper.

The brittle, fractured map required careful blotter washing to avoid further damage.

After drying, the map was lined with an opaque Japanese tissue to hold the pieces together and fill the losses. The tissue was toned with diluted acrylic paint to approximate the color of the map after washing. The variety of shades in the mottled paper necessitated simply aiming for a neutral middle color. I adhered the lining to the map with a reversible, water soluble wheat starch paste, working on a light table to align the many tiny, fractured pieces.

Preparing the map for lining on the light table. Losses seen here will be filled with the toned Japanese tissue lining.

The archivists and I agree that it’s worth keeping the backing board with its puzzling annotations. Next week, I will surface clean the board and apply a deacidification spray to help control future brittleness and breaking. I will also create a mat to support the map and assist in future exhibition. Now that the map is more secure and stable, perhaps a future researcher can shed additional light on this document.

Happy 100th Birthday, Medina Dam

Posted on June 15, 2012 by ARIS Staff

In the lab this month are three architectural drawings from 1910 – 1912, made in preparation for the construction of the Medina Dam near San Antonio. Like many oversize materials, these drawings were rolled and required humidification and flattening for archival storage.

Two of the maps are hand-drawn on starch-coated linen. The largest of these maps is 34” x 70”, making good use of the lab’s custom-made tables.

Hand-drafted plans for the Medina Dam on linen after flattening.

The third map, a 33” x 60” blueprint, required some additional work to remove previous tape repairs and mend numerous tears.

Blueprint of Medina Dam after flattening, tape removal, and mending tears.

The Medina Dam was built to control flooding and provide farmland irrigation in the Texas Hill Country, where water rights continue as a major issue in the present day (see the exhibit “Water in Texas,” currently on display in TSLAC’s lobby.) The dam’s development group, the Medina Irrigation Company, also hoped to establish new towns and sell farmland based on irrigation improvements. Much of the project’s funding actually came from British capital, an arrangement that became problematic with the outbreak of World War I in 1914. With access to British funding limited and the Medina Irrigation Company in jeopardy, project leader Fred Pearson set out for England to make a personal appeal. Unfortunately, Pearson sailed aboard the Lusitania in 1915, when it was sunk by German submarines in a major international incident that eventually helped spur American entry into WWI. The troubled Medina Dam assets were eventually sold in 1950 to a local water district, which retains ownership today.

The dam and the resulting Medina Lake were promoted as tourism destinations in the 1920s and beyond, as seen in a hand-colored postcard from the period.

Hand-colored Medina Dam tourism postcard from the 1920s. Image and much of the preceding historical information courtesy “The Edwards Aquifer Website,” http://www.edwardsaquifer.net/medina.html

As tourism in the area continues, Texas Highways magazine commemorated the 100^th anniversary of Medina Dam in its June 2012 issue, which gives us this charming account:

When Medina Lake was being constructed, there was a gravel toll road (built by an industrious landowner) leading from FM 471 to the construction site. Sightseers from San Antonio would travel up FM 471 in Packard touring cars and stop at a little rock house at the intersection, where a monkey wearing a tiny hat would come out and collect the tolls. The toll road was eventually paved and became FM 1283.

So happy 100^th birthday, Medina Dam.

The folksy 1901 floodmarker referenced in this design (see first photo) likely ceased to offer useful information once Medina Lake filled.

Sam Houston, Andrew Jackson, and Thomas Jefferson

Posted on February 3, 2012 by ARIS Staff

One of the most enjoyable things about conservation is the unpredictability and variety of the work. Today, I’d like to paint a brief portrait of one especially interesting piece of correspondence I recently treated.

Houston Introduction Letter Before Treatment

Sam Houston Introduction Letter - address information visible in upper left.

This 1823 letter is Andrew Jackson’s introduction of Sam Houston to Thomas Jefferson. My work on the letter coincided with reading H.W. Brands’ Lone Star Nation, an engaging refresher on Texas history even for those who had it drilled into us as schoolchildren. The timing couldn’t have been better, because Brands’ book puts a very human face on the friendship and mentorship between Jackson and Houston.

Young Houston first met General Jackson while serving under his command in the War of 1812. Houston followed Jackson into Tennessee politics, becoming a congressman from 1823 – 1827, and governor from 1827 – 1829. After resigning his governorship when his marriage crumbled in 1829, Houston eventually began his life anew in Texas. Jackson continued to support him, especially regarding possible US annexation of the region.

Thus this 1823 letter coincides with the 30-year-old Houston’s election to the House of Representatives, a time in which a newly-minted congressman would have eagerly sought new introductions to influential people. It’s no wonder that Jackson, himself bound for the presidency from 1829 – 1837, would have helped his protégé enter Washington life. The introduction was timely; Jefferson, already an 80-year-old man in 1823, died in 1826.

The Houston Introduction Letter had some unusual condition issues when it appeared in the lab. At some point in the past, the letter had been cut into 15 separate pieces, primarily along pre-existing fold lines. These sections had then been adhered to thin pieces of silk, as was a past preservation practice. Strangely, small gaps had been left inbetween the cut sections, leaving a grid-like appearance. Investigation revealed the lining had been adhered with a combination of water-soluble paste and non-archival white glue, much like commercially marketed Elmer’s (see previous entry, “Problem Solving in Paper Conservation.”)

Sam Houston Introduction Letter Before Treatment

Transmitted light shows gaps between cut sections.

It’s impossible to say where, when, or why these previous steps were taken. They might have happened even before our institution acquired the document. However, they highlight the importance of reversibility, a central tenet of modern conservation practice. Because of items like the Houston Introduction Letter, we know that current practice may not remain best practice forever, and we strive to learn from these past mistakes. Accordingly, ethical conservation treatments comprise changes that can be undone in order to minimize their permanent impact on historical items.

Sam Houston Introduction Letter During Treatment

Mending cut pieces together after removing silk lining.

During treatment, I removed the silk lining, de-acidified the paper, and mended the pieces back together, closing the distracting gaps. Age and wear have rendered those gaps still partially visible, but overall the treatment improved legibility and reduced visual disturbance. And, if a future custodian finds that those cuts were historically important (for example, if Jackson had made the cuts himself,) my mends can be reversed and the letter returned to pieces.

Sam Houston Introduction Letter After Treatment

After treatment, the gaps have been closed as possible.

Here’s to a long life for this document of a fascinating confluence of people.

Archival Serendipity

Posted on September 2, 2011 by ARIS Staff

As I gradually de-silk, deacidify, mend, and sleeve our collection of Confederate muster rolls, I receive periodic inquiries from the reading room staff as to whether work on a particular requested document is completed. Untreated muster rolls are not available to researchers due to their extremely fragile condition.

This week, I was surprised to receive an inquiry about a muster roll whose treatment I had just completed three days earlier. I recognized this particular muster roll by number right away for several reasons. First, it had arrived in the lab in nine separate pieces and had been reassembled into four complete sheets, one a giant 32.5” x 42.5”! Beyond the physical condition, I also immediately noticed that this muster roll was filled with Hispanic surnames, something I’d never observed in other similar documents. Not only was I excited that such recently completed work should be requested by a researcher, but I also hoped to potentially learn a little more about this unusual document.

The researcher told us that this muster roll represented a unique intersection of Civil War and Tejano history. When the Civil War broke out, many Tejanos did not support the Confederacy, and they lost land and status. By contrast, the prominent family of Santos Benavides in Laredo allied themselves with the Confederacy. Benavides took his staff and servants into battle, and their names are listed on the muster roll. Benavides eventually became a colonel, the highest ranking Tejano in the Confederate Army, and participated in several significant battles. Far from encountering ill fortune during the war, Benavides, the son of Laredo’s founder, remained a major landowner and political figure in Laredo until his death in 1891.

How fortunate to learn more about this unusual document, and how fortunate the timing of the research and conservation work! Many thanks to our researcher for taking the time to talk about Benavides’ story. I look forward a forthcoming journal article on the topic.

Working Solutions for Letterpress Copying Books

Posted on July 14, 2011 by ARIS Staff

Some of you, especially the conservators in the audience, may be aware of the perils of letterpress copying books. These books are the products of a 19^th- and early 20^th-century office duplication technology. In this process, an original manuscript was created with special ink, laid next to a blank, dampened, translucent copy page, and pressed together in a copy press. The result was a mirror-image copy, which was read through the opposite side of the translucent paper. For more on this process, see recent work presented by Beth Antoine at the American Institute for Conservation 2011 annual meeting, or Barbara Rhodes’ 1999 publication Before Photocopying: The Art and History of Mechanical Copying 1780 – 1938.

Many copy presses, like this one, have been repurposed as small book presses in binderies and conservation labs.

The inks and papers required by letterpress technology produced documents that have many physical problems today. The fragile papers wrinkle and tear easily, and often incur severe damage from ink corrosion. To further complicate matters, these materials can be seriously damaged by water, rendering many water-based conservation treatments off limits.

For a copying book in the lab this month, I improvised a treatment method that worked satisfactorily well. I needed to mend several copying book leaves that were severely wrinkled and torn due to ink degradation and research use. I skipped traditional humidification and achieved moderately successful results flattening with weight alone. But the problem of holding the translucent tissue flat for mending still seemed to require more hands than I have. To address this problem, I used the suction table.

Mending with heat-set tissue on the suction table.

By drawing gentle suction under the item, I was able to arrange it flat and then have both hands free to apply heat-set tissue mends with a tacking iron. This method allowed for quick application of mends and hinges for re-securing the pages in their binding.

Question: Is this the most beautiful, perfect, and complete conservation treatment ever devised?

Answer: Definitely not! The mends are visible on the translucent paper. This is a stabilization treatment only; other steps would be required to arrest degradation processes inherent in the copybook materials. Due to the paper’s warping over time, some compromises between legibility and flatness are required during mending. And the treatment requires leaves to be loose from their binding. (Several of the leaves in this treatment were already loose; the remaining ones were removed and re-hinged after treatment. This was quicker and likely less damaging than working in situ.)

But consider the following: archives often have thousands of these letterpress copying books in their collections, all in similar states of need. Conservators must develop efficient solutions that make sense within the scope of the problem. This copying book may not be a thing of beauty, but it is stabilized for use, and that makes all the difference for the next researcher.

Copying book after treatment, open to a mended page signed by Texas Governor Pendleton Murrah (1863-65.)

Barn Floor Paper

Posted on May 13, 2011 by ARIS Staff

An ongoing project here at TSLAC is the treatment of our large collection of Confederate muster rolls. These documents provide a fascinating snapshot of men enlisting in the Confederate army, often stating their age, hometown, and personal supplies brought into service. The muster rolls come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, with myriad paper, media, and condition issues. Specifically, I’ve noticed one unusual type of paper that composes perhaps 10% of the collection. An example of this dark brown paper is below:

Muster roll, silked, before treatment.

In my mind, I’ve come to refer to this as “barn floor paper,” because it would appear to be made from sweepings off the barn floor. Given the stresses and disruptions in manufacturing in the Confederacy, this isn’t so difficult to imagine. A close-up may reveal more detail:

Muster roll, detail, during treatment.

The paper is very coarse, with a variety of fibers visible throughout. It is poorly sized, if at all, which creates challenges in removing existing mends without disturbing the fibers. After treatment, wash water is a deep, molasses color, though the color of the paper itself remains quite dark.

: Muster roll, close-up on heading “Pay Roll,” during treatment.

Do any readers have knowledge of or experience with this paper? Do you know what it was made with, or have your observed it in other collections? I’m curious to know whether its homely composition reflects difficulties in economics and supply chains in the Confederacy, as I imagine. Or, perhaps this paper was made this way quite intentionally, for a particular purpose. As with so many record-keeping supplies, I’d argue that purpose definitely wasn’t preservation.

TSLAC Conservation

Conservation at the Texas State Library and Archives Commission

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