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Liliana Macias is a graduate student in Latin American and Latino Studies at the University of Illinois at Chicago. She has been a gallery engagement associate in Race: Are We So Different? since January and reflects on her experience in this blog post.
I have been working in Race for five months and by now if I close my eyes I can clearly see the visuals in the exhibition. If I cover my ears and close my eyes I can see the scholars in the videos and recite what they are saying. Despite my familiarity with the exhibition, every day I’m here feels like I’m stepping into it for the very first time. By now I have come to see it through the eyes of the groups and individuals who walk through its entrance. When I do tours, I encourage participants to contribute whatever experiential knowledge they have on the subject because I understand that we live with our race and, despite it being a fictional concept, our lives are marked by it.
Liliana in the Race gallery. All photographs by CHM staff
When visitors connect with Race on a personal level and share their stories with me, I’m extremely humbled. Those stories contribute to the way I have come to understand race in the United States. As my knowledge expands on the subject, I improve on how I can engage with visitors. And even in those moments when tensions are high and a visitor rejects the social reality of what people of color experience, my prior interactions in the exhibition give me the knowledge I need to navigate those tense conversations. Even though the tension of those conversations can leave me feeling weary, I need only to conjure the precious shared stories of previous visitors and that weariness dissipates. I can feel the tension melt away when I think of the refugee children who have shared with me about their arduous journey to the US. I can feel it lessen when I hear young black children proudly assert that Black Lives Matter. I can feel the tension ease when I remember the elderly black couple who talked to me for an hour about their experiences during the Jim Crow era. I can feel it trickle away when I remember the young Mexican boy who asked me if he could share something with me in Spanish and was elated to know that I spoke Spanish like him, grew up in the same neighborhood as him, and was Mexican just like him.
A school group listens as Liliana talks about Kip Fulbeck’s The Hapa Project.
At the end of the day, my job as a gallery engagement associate at the Chicago History Museum is to honor those shared experiences by encouraging visitors to think critically about race in the hopes that they understand the urgency of abolishing the power structures that negatively impact our lives.
As part of Monday Night Nitrates, our weekly photograph series, CHM collections staff is blogging about the process of digitizing approximately 35,000 nitrate negatives, a project funded by the Institute of Museum and Library Services. In this post, CHM senior archivist Dana Lamparello writes about making the images discoverable for research.
In many ways, the cataloging step for which I’ve been responsible in our IMLS-funded nitrate preservation workflow bridges the gap between physical and digital, i.e., between the physical nitrate negatives and the digital images and metadata that you’ve been reading about. The ultimate goal of this project is to limit access to the physical nitrate negatives (preservation) while still allowing the negatives to be discoverable for research (access), and it all comes together at this point in the process.
Six of the forty-six boxes of flexible nitrate negatives from the Charles R. Childs collection waiting to be scanned. Photograph by CHM staff
The back end of our ContentDM portal where data and files are added and edited.
First, it’s important to remember that each distinct group of nitrate negatives is considered an archival collection or part of a collection—in some cases, a much bigger collection than what the nitrate portion represents. For example, the Charles R. Childs collection totals nearly ten thousand images, but only about 45 percent of those are nitrate negatives, where the remainder is comprised of postcards, photographic prints, and glass negatives. Certainly all are formats with unique preservation needs but none as pressing as cellulose nitrate. It is important to tie these digitized nitrate images to the greater collection because without it, all context for the images will be lost. The John Walley collection’s nitrates, for example, exclusively document his 1937 Federal Art Project assignment to photograph life and industry in Alaska. The greater Walley collection more comprehensively documents the career of a Chicago-based designer, artist, and professor from 1937 to 1974. Thus, promoting discoverability of the nitrate negatives requires that they remain in context with the rest of the collection for complete understanding.
Childs’s work documented Chicago and the surrounding suburbs in the first half of the twentieth century, such as this image of Wacker Drive, c. 1925. CHM, ICHi-095740
In this photograph, Walley captured a worker unloading fish onto a boat, c. 1937. CHM, ICHi-094214
Like the Walley collection, most of the nitrates I encountered already correspond to a record in our library online catalog ARCHIE, which is the main access point and database to search all of our research collection holdings, including our photographic archival collections. ARCHIE records include summaries of each collection and with larger collections like Walley’s, a finding aid is available. Unlike the ARCHIE record, the finding aid provides more detailed information about the collection, mainly an inventory of each box or folder and details about what they contain. In addition to updating the information in ARCHIE records and finding aids to reflect the work completed for this project, including edits to the collection descriptions and adding data about the IMLS grant, restriction notes about access to the physical negatives, and new freezer storage locations, I also added a link to a separate inventory—one that details the nitrates. This visual inventory, as we call it, is simply a PDF with thumbnail-sized images of each digitized nitrate negative and very minimal metadata, including description, date, and copyright status evaluated by our Rights and Reproductions manager and utilizing standard rights statements from RightsStatements.org.
The collection-level ARCHIE record with links to the finding aid and nitrate PDF for the Charles R. Childs collection.
Researchers can quickly scan the PDF to search the collection.
The PDF is a means of quickly glancing through these images. Should you need to see a higher resolution image for your research, it is available upon request, but providing this quick view of the images allows you to see them in context with the rest of the collection, especially when the rest of the collection isn’t digitized.
PRIMARY SOURCE TYPE: PHOTOGRAPHS
The Remembering Dr. King: 1929–1968 exhibition invites students and teachers to walk through a winding gallery featuring of twenty-five photographs depicting key moments in Dr. King’s work and the civil rights movement, with a special focus on his time in Chicago. This classroom resource allows you to bring a portion of the experience into your classroom. It contains suggested activities, photograph analysis worksheets, as well as two timelines developed for the exhibition, one of Dr. King’s life and work, the other of national events that were part of the civil rights movement.
Remembering Dr. King – Classroom Resources
The photograph packet contains eight photographs from the exhibition to use in classroom instruction. The first page of the packet contains thumbnail images, captions, and the CHM reference number. Following that, photographs are printed on numbered, full-size pages, with the CHM reference number.
Remembering Dr. King – Photograph Packet
DePaul University students Joseph Flynn, Jay Kietzman, Jessica Licklider, and Lily Zenger delve into the issues surrounding the Civil War monuments in the Chicago area. They were students of Peter T. Alter, the Museum’s historian and director of the Studs Terkel Center for Oral History, as part of DePaul University’s public history program. Former CHM intern and DePaul public history concentrator Sydney O’Hare edited their work.
While many familiar with Chicago’s history can recognize Grant Park’s iconic bronze statue of Union army general John A. Logan, few are aware of another Civil War monument that sits less than ten miles away in one of Chicago’s South Side cemeteries. Located near South Chicago Avenue and East Seventy-First Street in Oak Woods Cemetery, the Confederate Mound is a forty-five-foot-tall monument honoring the thousands of Confederate prisoners of war who died at Camp Douglas. Located in what is now the Greater Grand Crossing community, the camp was in operation from the war’s beginning in 1861 until its end in 1865. Both monuments were built in the 1890s, each receiving widespread attention from thousands of visitors when they were first unveiled.
A massive crowd joins city officials in the unveiling of the Logan Statue in Lake Park, now Grant Park, July 22, 1897. Photograph by George E. Mellen, ICHi-023906
The Confederate Mound, Oak Woods Cemetery, 2017. Photograph by Joe Flynn
In June of 1891, members of the Ex-Confederate Association of Chicago met to appeal to donors they considered sympathizers of the Confederate dead in order to construct a monument in their honor. The Ex-Confederate Association originally intended to debut the statue during the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, but the project was not finished in time. The 1895 dedication ceremony drew a significant crowd, including a visit from President Grover Cleveland and his whole cabinet.
The presidents of the Ex-Confederate Association of Chicago from John C. Underwood, Report of proceedings incidental to the erection and dedication of the Confederate monument (Chicago: Johnston Print Co., 1896).
Soldiers gather around a man and woman preparing to “consecrate” the decorative cannons surrounding the memorial, 1895, from John C. Underwood, Report of proceedings.
Contemporary conversations about nationalism, historical understanding, and growing political tensions have made it especially important to reflect upon Confederate monuments and what they represent. Supporters of the monuments often claim that they represent southern heritage; however, a vast majority of the monuments were built from 1880 to 1910 in direct response to African American political gains in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. As modern scholars have suggested, therefore, rather than preserving southern pride, these monuments romanticize an era built upon white supremacy.
A crowd forms around the Confederate Mound for a Memorial Day celebration, June 1915. Photograph by the Chicago Daily News, DN-0064548
Because the Confederate Mound in Oak Woods Cemetery was originally constructed to be somber rather than celebratory, it presents a unique set of circumstances and requires a different reflection. Its location on burial grounds and connection to Camp Douglas set it apart from the prominently displayed monuments typically found in southern town squares, government buildings, and public spaces. Yet the question still remains—how does a nation come to terms with its past when debates over historical morality and regional pride persist, especially in public spaces?
Additional Resources
- Read more about how the Civil War affected Chicago
- Get to know the Camp Douglas Restoration Foundation
On the fiftieth anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.’s death, CHM director of curatorial affairs Joy L. Bivins reflects on his assassination.
On this date fifty years ago, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was fatally shot on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee. Today, around our city and throughout the nation, ceremonies of solemn remembrance will take place as we pause to reflect on the life and legacy of Dr. King, as well as what we all lost that day in 1968.
Only thirty-nine years old when he was murdered, King’s youth is often obscured by the international reputation he earned during his relatively short career. In 1955, at twenty-six and as a new father, he was asked to be a leader of the Montgomery bus boycott—a catalyzing event in the modern civil rights movement. In the next dozen years, he became the movement’s most visible leader, advocating tirelessly for the end of the nation’s violently oppressive racial caste system. His activism, rooted in an ethic of love and nonviolent action, stands in painful contrast with his violent murder.
King meets with President Lyndon B. Johnson at the White House, Washington, DC, 1963. Photograph by Yoichi Okamoto, ICHi-034763
King remained a committed civil rights activist but expanded his vision in the late 1960s. In 1967, he spoke out against the Vietnam War and launched the Poor People’s Campaign, a new movement aimed at economic and political redistribution for all Americans. In March and April 1968, King traveled to Memphis to support striking black sanitation workers. The night before his assassination, he powerfully addressed an overflow crowd at the Mason Temple assuring them that “We as a people will get to the promised land.” Less than twenty-four hours later, he was pronounced dead.
Disbelief, anger, and grief at King’s assassination yielded devastating reverberations in the United States as nearly one hundred cities experienced some sort of civil unrest. In Chicago, a city King frequently visited and even called home in 1966 as he attempted to shine light on northern racism, the reaction was swift and fierce. African American communities, particularly on the city’s West Side, were overwhelmed by burning and looting that lasted from Friday through Sunday. To reclaim order, thousands of members of the Illinois National Guard were called in, along with the full force of the Chicago police. By Monday morning, at least nine Chicagoans were dead, hundreds had been arrested, and more than one hundred buildings were decimated.
National Guardsman in front of buildings burned in the wake of King’s assassination, Chicago, 1968. Photograph by Declan Haun, ICHi-068946
City officials quickly memorialized King by renaming South Parkway, the boulevard running through the heart of Black Chicago from Twenty-Fifth Street to 115th Street, after the slain leader. And over the next several years, activists pushed for a national holiday in his honor. In 1983, Dr. King’s birthday was recognized as a federal holiday—one that many of us celebrate as a day of service and reflection. It is, however, as important, maybe more important, to commemorate the death of this prophetic voice for justice and equality. His words and actions continue to illuminate just how high the cost of working for freedom can be. Today, let’s not only contemplate what he accomplished during his short life, but the brilliance, the possibility that was taken from us all on that day in April.
Patrolling officers walk past a storefront memorial to Dr. King, Chicago, April 5, 1968. Photograph by Tom Kneebone, ICHi-003624
Join us in reflecting on Dr. King’s life in the exhibition Remembering Dr. King: 1929–1968, which covers on his civil rights work and focuses on his time in Chicago.
Additional Resource
CHM curatorial assistant Brittany Hutchinson reflects on her work for our newest exhibition, Remembering Dr. King: 1929–1968.
The entrance to Remembering Dr. King. Photograph by CHM staff
At the Chicago History Museum, we are honoring the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. with an exhibition, Remembering Dr. King: 1929–1968. It includes objects and images that reflect his work nationally and locally and asks visitors to think how they are carrying his legacy today.
Dr. King often spoke of the inherent connection between all people despite the circumstances that attempt to separate us. The exhibition explores connections between Dr. King’s life and the events taking place in the world around him. Along the perimeter wall of the gallery, a timeline follows Dr. King’s historic rise to prominence, the height of his leadership in the civil rights movement, and finally his untimely death at the hands of a white supremacist. It becomes clear that at the height of his popularity, the world that once influenced Dr. King begins to change as it became influenced by him.
The large images are arranged in an intricate grid. Photograph by CHM staff
Suspended in the center of the gallery are images related to Dr. King’s activism in Chicago. Along with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC), he left the South in 1965 and announced the Chicago Campaign, establishing the Chicago Freedom Movement in order to continue the fight against racism. Determined to challenge Chicago’s closed-housing market, Dr. King moved his family to the North Lawndale neighborhood to draw attention to the conditions that Chicago’s black citizens faced. Along with local activists, he participated in open-housing marches in white neighborhoods around the city. In every instance, activists were met with anger and violence. At one march, Dr. King was struck with a rock thrown by a counterprotester in the Marquette Park neighborhood.
A protester holds a sign during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, Washington, DC, August 28, 1963. Photograph by Declan Haun, ICHi-036879
The end of the Chicago Campaign in late summer 1966 signaled a shift in Dr. King’s focus as well the public’s opinion of him. In spring 1967, he delivered an antiwar sermon, “Beyond Vietnam,” at Riverside Church in New York City. That same year, he announced the Poor People’s Campaign, a plan to unite the nation toward economic equality and justice. Activists from multiple racial backgrounds pledged to join Dr. King in the fight to uplift the American working class through securing fair wages, full employment, and economic empowerment. The combination of an antiwar and anticapitalist platform hurt Dr. King’s already waning popularity.
Following news of Dr. King’s assassination, massive riots broke out in Chicago and several other US cities, April 1968. Photograph by Declan Haun, ICHi-062889
Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated by James Earl Ray at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee, on April 4, 1968. Response to his murder was swift and violent, and Chicago was especially impacted. The day after Dr. King’s assassination, uprisings erupted across the city. The National Guard was called in to patrol the city until order was restored on the following Monday.
Mourners gather at the funeral for Dr. King in Atlanta, April 9, 1968. Photograph by Declan Haun, ICHi-062906
Dr. King’s influence on American society continued on after his death. One week after his assassination, Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Federal Fair Housing act of 1968 into law. In November 1983, Ronald Regan signed the King Holiday Bill establishing that, beginning in 1986, every third Monday of January should be observed as a national holiday. Dr. King’s legacy lives on as each year we celebrate his life by asking ourselves how we can help to continue his fight against inequality and toward freedom.
Additional Resources
- Peruse Stanford University’s excellent resource on Dr. King
- Read the Chicago Tribune‘s review of Remembering Dr. King: 1929–1968
For Women’s History Month, head into storage with CHM collection technician Jessica McPheters for a closer look at two artifacts that document twentieth-century political strife and women’s suffrage in Chicago.
In the summer of 2016, the collections team began working on an inventory of the Decorative and Industrial Arts (DIA) collection at the Chicago History Museum. The process requires the team to pull artifacts from their storage areas so that we can record a number of details, such as the accession number (a numeric code that artifacts are assigned when cataloged into the collection), artifact location, measurements, photographs, and notes about the artifact’s physical description and condition. Collections inventory is necessary to update museum records and make them more accurate. It is also rewarding for the staff and interns to learn the history behind each artifact, as it enriches our daily work.
After 150 years of collecting, and with approximately 100,000 artifacts in the DIA collection, the discovery of treasures is often a daily occurrence. We found a few that tell the story of how women fought for the right to vote—a ballot box and ballot gauging Chicagoans’ support of women’s suffrage.
Judge Catherine Waugh McCulloch when she was justice of the peace of Evanston, Illinois, c. 1910. Photograph by the National Woman Suffrage Press Bureau. Retrieved from the Library of Congress, accessed March 6, 2018.
Catherine Waugh McCulloch was a respected lawyer and the first female justice of the peace in Illinois, serving in Evanston from 1907 to 1913. She was also a prominent suffragist who cofounded the Chicago Political Equality League in 1894, chaired the Legislative Committee of the Illinois Equal Suffrage Association (IESA) from 1890 to 1912, and led a whistle-stop train tour through the state in 1893 to rally support for a “statutory suffrage” bill she drafted that would allow Illinois women to vote in presidential elections.
Catherine Waugh McCulloch (below x) embraces a fellow suffragette upon her return to Chicago from a trip to Springfield, Illinois, to campaign for the right of women to vote, June 14, 1913. Photograph by the Chicago Daily News, DN-0060623
By 1912, the suffrage movement in the Chicago area was gaining momentum and attracting the attention of many residents. McCulloch lobbied for a preferential ballot that broached the topic of women’s suffrage. Judge John E. Owens approved the ballot in March for the April 1912 primaries. This vote was similar to an opinion poll and, while it initiated conversation on the topic around the city, it was not highly favored in any of the city’s wards.
A wooden ballot box from Chicago’s 18th Ward for the 1912 preferential election. ICHi-032106
This paper ballot was found while inventorying the ballot box. Photograph by CHM staff
Overall, there were approximately 135,000 residents who voted against and around 71,000 residents who voted in favor of granting women the right to vote. Suffragists got to work organizing throughout the state, speaking to legislators about the movement. Illinois women enjoyed a victory on June 26, 1913, when Governor Edward Dunne signed into law the bill granting them the right to vote for presidential electors, mayor, aldermen, and most other local offices. There was still work to be done, however, because they could not vote for governor, state representatives, or members of Congress.
Mrs. George Taylor and Catherine Waugh McCulloch (front right) lead the Democratic women’s parade down LaSalle Street, Chicago, October 5, 1916. Photograph by the Chicago Daily News, DN-0067219
On June 10, 1919, Illinois became one of the first states to ratify the 19th Amendment. There were still limitations and restrictions placed against women voters until 1920 when the 19th Amendment was adopted by Congress and full suffrage was granted to women around the country.
Additional Resources
- Visit our exhibition Facing Freedom in America to learn more about the fight for suffrage
- Explore the Museum’s collection
As part of Monday Night Nitrates, our weekly photograph series, the Chicago History Museum collections staff is blogging about the process of digitizing approximately 35,000 nitrate negatives, a project funded by the Institute of Museum and Library Services. In this post, CHM paper conservator Carol Turchan writes about how the negatives were prepared for digitization and freezer storage.
The 2013 conservation condition survey was an important preliminary step toward digitizing and preserving our nitrate film collection, but did not prepare staff for issues discovered once the project began. As the conservator, my task was to prepare the boxes of film for permanent freezer storage. It would not be necessary to replace the negatives’ enclosures—envelopes and boxes—because degraded storage materials would not affect the film in its frozen state.
The collection was previously in cold storage in a rooftop vault, but had been out for a number of years because of work on the roof. The years in temporary storage added to the influence of degraded, crowded packaging, and may have led to further degradation of the unstable material.
Several individual collections required some level of conservation intervention. Negatives of the World’s Columbian Exposition were brittle and tightly curled because they lacked an anticurl layer. Humidification was required to relax the film for scanning. Two conservators assisted the photographer in moving negatives one at a time from tray to copy stand before the film dried and reverted to its curled state.
We gradually relaxed tightly curled negatives from one collection by humidifying them for three hours. Each negative was then quickly slipped under glass to be scanned before it curled again. All images by CHM staff
Strips of 35mm film from another collection became brittle and twisted while constrained within channels of plastic sleeves. Forty-one negatives from yet another collection were curled together and had to be peeled apart one at a time. Other unexpected anomalies were powdery residues on surfaces, lifting of gelatin, image-bearing layers from unusually thick nitrate bases, and batches of thin, very brittle negatives stuck together. Despite the many interesting condition issues we confronted, it was reassuring that an image could be salvaged digitally in almost all cases.
There were some conservation issues among the collections. Here, powdery residues are brushed from surfaces of a negative.
After digitization and capture of metadata for each image, conservation began packaging 285 various-sized boxes of film for permanent preservation in seven freezers purchased under the IMLS grant. Each box of film requires two layers of protective plastic wrapping before moving to freezer storage.
Before wrapping boxes of film for freezing, voids must be filled with archival material to reduce air spaces.
Static-Shield™ film and 6ml polyethylene are two layers of plastic film required for freezer storage. All seams were carefully sealed with self-adhesive tape.
To avoid trapping moisture in boxes, wrapping began in winter 2017 when relative humidity (RH) was lower in the Paper Lab. Empty spaces in boxes were filled with archival, absorbent materials to eliminate trapped air. Boxes were labelled, a humidity indicator placed on the box next to the label, and the first wrapping of thin, Static Shield film applied. All seams were sealed with self-adhesive tape that will endure freezing temperatures. Another humidity indicator was placed near the first before the second wrapping of heavy, 6ml polyethylene was applied. The indicators will monitor RH in the box and between layers. After all seams were sealed with tape, the box was ready for the freezer.
Freezer #3 of 7 is filled. The temperature will be maintained at -20˚C (-4˚F). One freezer will remain empty to accommodate contents of a freezer when defrosting is required.
Shelf arrangement is determined before introducing wrapped boxes to freezers, and shelf numbers noted for future access. With freezers loaded and rarely opened, frost should be slow to form on shelves, but when necessary to defrost, contents will be moved to an empty freezer reserved for that purpose. The freezer number will move with its contents. Staff will periodically monitor for freezer temperature, excessive frost on shelves, and RH in packages. It’s estimated that freezing the film around –4˚ F will extend its life for 1,000 years.
To cap off Black History Month, CHM cataloging and metadata librarian Gretchen Neidhardt writes about her search for the voices of African American servicemen in our archives.
While in the process of digitizing the last of our paper card catalog for 6,000 small manuscript collections, I noticed that several items mentioned “Negro Troops.” (Our card catalog terminology needs updating, which is another step of the conversion process. Expect a future post on that.)
I pulled materials from four collections that were referenced. First was the papers of Sebastian Bauman Brennan, who was lieutenant of several black regiments during the Civil War, including the Chasseurs d’Afrique and the 84th Louisiana Colored Infantry. The collection includes his biography and several general orders Brennan wrote by hand.
An order Brennan received from Brigadier General D. Ullmann. All photographs by CHM staff
The Henry Bruce Scott papers consist of a single certificate from the Bureau of Colored Troops, Army of the James, composed of Union troops in Virginia and North Carolina during the final stage of the Civil War. Scott addressed the document to C. N. W. Cunningham, 1st Lieutenant of the 25th Army Corps.
The document informs Cunningham of his promotion from lieutenant to captain.
The Thomas H. De Motte papers include a letter from De Motte’s son, who was manager of the Chicago branch of the National Casket Company, and five contracts for beef for black regiments including the 55th US Colored Infantry, Batteries F and G, 2nd Regiment US Colored Light Artillery, 7th Regiment US Colored Heavy Artillery, and 61st US Colored Infantry. De Motte himself was 2nd Lieutenant, 59th US Colored Infantry.
Two examples of beef contracts between the US Army and John Aiken.
Lastly in our small manuscript search is an unpublished manuscript from John F. Kendrick, filed under “United States History. War of 1898.” His manuscript for Midsummer Picnic of ‘98 states that “This is the kind of doughboy memoir that arouses sympathetic reactions in many veterans of foreign service.” Kendrick discusses the black men with whom he served at length, in largely complimentary if simplistic terms. The whole work is filled with “spicy incidents that show that boys will be boys even in war.” It is a work begging to be published and annotated by a Spanish-American War historian, but is not a work full of African American voices.
Kendrick’s manuscript recalls an incident in which a black sergeant stands up to a bully. He remarks, “If a man was a man, why, he was a man, and that’s all there was to it.”
This was an unexpected trend throughout all these collections—even though all are about African Americans, none were actually by African Americans. There are a few reasons for this: African Americans are not always writing explicitly about being African American, so it wouldn’t necessarily get tagged in a subject; most of these documents are from commanding officers, and African Americans were often excluded from those positions; early collections acquired by the Museum (c. 1920 or earlier) make up the bulk of these small manuscripts and those collectors were not focused on African Americans or other voices of color.
Does this mean there is no representation of Black voices by Black voices in the small manuscripts collections? Of course not, but it does mean that more research is needed. There is an imbalance in the voices that were historically collected, but our current collection policies aim to emphasize those voices both in new acquisitions and emphasizing marginalized voices when we find them in the archives. And do not be dismayed—just because this initial search for black military service turned up less than I had hoped in the small manuscripts, materials might still be waiting there to be discovered by researchers like you.
We also have many collections with strong African American voices in other areas of the Museum, including our larger manuscript collections, prints and photographs, and published materials. Collections like the Claude Barnett papers and visual materials, Irene McCoy Gaines papers, Paul King papers, African American Police League records, Congress of Racial Equality records, and many more. I encourage you to explore our African American subject headings to see what you can find.
Additional Resource
- Learn more about the National Archives and Records Administration’s holdings on Black soldiers in the Civil War
Collections volunteer Robert Blythe writes about photographer Raeburn Flerlage, who captured the blues and folk scenes in 1960s Chicago.
If you’re a fan of American roots music, then the Chicago History Museum’s Raeburn Flerlage collection is a must-see. Ray, as he was known, spent much of the 1960s taking candid photographs in Chicago’s premier blues and folk clubs. The thousands of images that he took are an incredible record of two outstanding and influential genres of American music: the urban blues and the folk revival. At clubs on the South and West Sides such as Theresa’s and Pepper’s, Flerlage captured legendary electric blues musicians including Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, and Buddy Guy. In these intimate settings, audience response was an integral part of the performance, and it shows in his photographs.
James Cotton (left) and Muddy Waters (with guitar) perform in Jazz at the Opera House, Chicago, 1963. ICHi-137738
During that same period, the folk revival was taking off at festivals and Chicago venues such as The Gate of Horn and the Plugged Nickel. Among the artists to be heard were Pete Seeger, Bessie Jones, and Joan Baez, as well as rediscovered rural blues icons such as Son House. Flerlage photographed these musicians and dozens of others.
Folk singer Joan Baez performs in Chicago, c. 1962. ICHi-118329
In the late 1950s, Flerlage became interested in photography, taking courses at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Institute of Design. In 1959 he got his first professional assignment: Moe Asch of Folkways Records commissioned him to photograph one of the label’s artists, bluesman Memphis Slim. Before long Flerlage’s photographs were appearing widely on album covers, in books and magazines, eventually even on T-shirts. Flerlage also didn’t confine his photography to musicians; he documented community events such as Chicago’s annual Bud Billiken Day Parade.
A drum corps performs in the Bud Billiken Parade, Chicago, c. 1960. ICHi-112491
While Flerlage is better known for his photography, he was involved in many aspects of the music business. He began in his twenties in Ohio, selling records and writing reviews. At the end of World War II, Flerlage moved to Chicago, continuing to write and also lecture on music. Soon he was organizing concerts and producing and hosting radio programs. These varied activities didn’t pay the rent, so in 1955 he became the Midwest sales representative for a number of independent record labels, including Folkways, Prestige, and Chicago’s Delmark. And later, with fewer opportunities to make money through photography, he went into record distribution on his own, forming Kinnara Inc. in 1971.
The cover image for Junior Wells’s Blues Hit Big Town (1977) is a slightly altered photograph of him performing at Theresa’s, Chicago, October 1965. ICHi-133642
Raeburn Flerlage passed away in 2002 at the age of eighty-seven. Some 45,000 photographic images form the core of the Flerlage collection, which is now available to researchers thanks to a processing grant from The Gladys Krieble Delmas Foundation. Also available are extensive business and personal records that reveal his progress through the music business in the twentieth century. Moreover, the holdings of the Museum’s Research Center have been greatly enhanced by Flerlage’s personal collection of blues and jazz reference books as well as publications from the late 1950s through the 1960s featuring his music reviews or photographs, such as Sing Out!, DownBeat, and the rare Chicago FM Guide.
A selection of Flerlage’s photographs will be featured in an upcoming exhibition, Amplified: Chicago Blues, which opens on Saturday, April 7. The exhibition will provide the perfect opportunity to view some of his work, as well as one of the city’s greatest legacies: the electric blues.